


Loyalty

by Sazzarazza20



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou are Bros, Hacker Kenma, Hanamaki Takahiro & Matsukawa Issei Friendship, Iwaizumi Hajime is a Good Friend, M/M, Oikawa Tooru is Bad at Feelings, Oikawa Tooru is a Little Shit, Oikawa Tooru is a Mess, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, POV Oikawa Tooru, Protective Iwaizumi Hajime, Sawamura Daichi is So Done, Smut, Sugawara Koushi is a Little Shit, Undercover, Undercover Missions, cop Kuroo, cop bokuto, mafia, mob boss, oikawa and hanamaki are neighbours, undercover cop oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29461368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sazzarazza20/pseuds/Sazzarazza20
Summary: Oikawa is an undercover cop running away from his past. Iwaizumi is a mafia boss who can see through anyone's lies.OrThe mafia/undercover cop au no one asked for.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Currently have no idea where this plot is going.

Oikawa adjusted the lapels of his tailored suit and grinned. He turned from side to side to check out all angles of his outfit in the floor to ceiling mirror. He nodded in approval.

‘Perfect,’ he said to Hanamaki who sat backward on his chair, cheek resting on his folded arms. ‘The suit is good too.’

Hanamaki rolled his eyes and stifled a yawn. 

‘Late night?’

‘Was up all night fixing your suit. I still don’t know how a police department can afford my talents.’ Hanamaki grabbed the measuring tape from around his neck and threw it on his workbench.

Oikawa shrugged. It wasn’t good to ask questions at his work unless he wanted to be put on desk duty for a month. He stepped away from the mirror and wrapped his arms around Hanamaki’s shoulders, resting his cheek on the top of his head.

‘You’re too sweet. Staying up all night to make a suit for little old me.’ Oikawa pulled away slightly to look his friend in the eyes. ‘You’re not in love with me, are you?’

‘Oh yeah, sure. Definitely.’ 

‘I knew it! Does that mean you’re going to let me visit you at your work now?’

‘I’ve already told you. I’m between jobs at the moment. This,’ he said gesturing to Oikawa’s new suit. ‘Is just something I do for some extra cash. We can’t all have fancy jobs in the police department.’

‘Undercover cop? Fancy? Makki, I didn’t know you had a sense of humour.’

In response Hanamaki flicked the arm Oikawa still had around him, making him flinch back. 

‘When do you go undercover?’

‘In two days.’

‘Dangerous?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Am I going to have tailor you a burial suit?’

‘Ha.’

Oikawa didn’t miss the tension in Hanamaki’s shoulders. He placed a comforting hand on him, in a silent promise to be careful.

‘So you can’t tell me anything about where you’re going?’

‘Nope,’ Oikawa said in a singsong voice as he moved back to the mirror to take off his suit. He placed the jacket over the side of the leather couch at the back of the room. A blanket lay crumpled on the couch. Makki must have slept in here, he thought. Oikawa respected the commitment to his work. 

He unbuttoned his shirt and shucked it off without a second thought. Hanamaki had seen him naked before. Not that he was watching him right now, he was too busy tapping away at his phone. He hummed at the screen. Oikawa looked up at him, pants halfway down his legs.

‘There’s been a body found in the alleyway of a club—Aoba Johsai,’ he said, staring at Oikawa, waiting for him to react. 

‘How terrible,’ Oikawa said, keeping his face neutral. He hopped over to his friend, almost tripping over his pants. Hanamaki always did this—brought up some local crime to see if Oikawa would reveal anything about the case he was working on. It was his way of showing he cared, he guessed. 

He itched to tell his friend everything about his new case, about the potential connections to the mafia. How it had everything to do with the body found in the alley next to club Aoba Johsai. But he couldn’t tell him. Things wouldn’t end well if he revealed anything. The last time he told him about a case, Hanamaki rang him every five seconds to check on him. He didn’t outright say he was worried—of course. He would just ring up and casually say things like ‘I think you left your oven on.’

‘I didn’t turn my oven on today.’

‘Well, then I think you left your lights on. You should go home and turn them off.’

‘It’s not dangerous to leave lights on.’

‘It’s dangerous to the environment.’

Now, Oikawa kept his mouth shut on every undercover case he worked on. Anyway, it would be safer if Hanamaki knew nothing. 

Hanamaki clicked his phone off and sighed. ‘Want to stay for breakfast?’

‘Hm? Depends on if you’re gonna try and poison me again.’

‘The milk was a day old.’

‘I could have died,’ Oikawa said, pulling his pyjama pants back on. ‘But yes, I’ll stay. Just gotta grab my phone charger.’ He gave a pointed look at Hanamaki’s android and wrinkled his nose. He ran to the door laughing as Hanamaki threw his pyjama top at his head. He caught it with ease and stuck his tongue out at him.

Being neighbours with Hanamaki meant a lot of impromptu shared meals. When Oikawa had first moved into the apartment across from him, Hanamaki had barely talked to him. When they crossed each other in the halls, he’d just gave him a nod of acknowledgment. That all changed when Oikawa came back from a particularly tiring day of sorting through files at work. He loosened his tie and halted when he saw Hanamaki coming out of his own apartment.

‘Hello.’

‘Your shirt’s too big.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Your shirt. It’s too big,’ Hanamaki repeated, slower. When Oikawa gave him a blank look he continued. ‘Your sleeves shouldn’t go past your wrists. I can… I can fix it if you want.’

‘Oh, well, yes thank you.’

From there, they somehow became friends. Maybe it was because they had more in common than they thought, despite their very different personalities. They both loved volleyball, for one thing. They spent nights watching games on the TV and even went to the local volleyball club to toss to each other. Oikawa liked Hanamaki. He was calm where Oikawa was high-strung. He was easy going where Oikawa was ambitious. He was self-assured where Oikawa was self-conscious. He brought balance into his life.

Oikawa opened his apartment door and headed straight to his kitchen. He grabbed his charger and slipped on his glasses, feeling a headache coming on. He considered changing out of his pyjamas but he knew Makki didn’t care what he looked like, despite the voice at the back of his head that whispered he would think Oikawa was lazy if he didn’t change. He pushed the thought down and raced back to his friend’s apartment. 

Hanamaki stood in the kitchen, whisking eggs in a large metal bowl. Oikawa made a beeline to the back of the stone bench to grab the coffee pot that already been made up. He stood on his toes to grab his pastel blue mug from the cabinet. It wasn’t actually his mug, but it was the one he always used when he was over. 

‘How long are you going undercover for?’ Hanamaki asked as he moved to pour the eggs onto the frying pan.

‘Dunno. Can’t be more than a couple of months though. It all depends on how easily everyone gives up the information I need.’

‘Knowing how manipulative you are, they should give up the information in a few days.’

‘Mean! I’m just good at finding people’s weaknesses and using them to my advantage.’

‘Pretty sure that’s the exact definition of manipulation.’ 

Oikawa took his coffee to the green-cushioned seats pushed under the kitchen bench. ‘But anyway, my role in this case isn’t big.’

‘So you aren’t going to disappear for five months?’

‘That was one time.’

‘Yeah, and it fucked you up. You need to stop overworking yourself. You don’t get paid enough for this shit.’

‘You’re forgetting my worthless pride,’ Oikawa said with a self-deprecating laugh, he pushed his glasses up his nose. He took a sip of his coffee, savouring the bitterness. ‘But, if it helps, I promise I won’t bite off more than I can chew. This isn’t going to be like last time, for one thing, I get to keep living in my apartment.’ The last case he worked on had him spending multiple nights on the streets. He shuddered at the thought of the dirt that had permanently embedded itself into his clothes. His knee throbbed, reminding him of what he suffered during those five months. His grip tightened around his mug and took a steadying breath. He wouldn’t allow himself to get lost in those memories. Maybe after this case, he should start going to therapy again. 

Hanamaki slid a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. ‘Ok. But you better not wreak your suit. I spent hours on that.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

Hanamaki slid onto the seat next to him. He watched as he shovelled eggs into his mouth and turned to Oikawa, grinning. A piece of egg fell out of his mouth. Oikawa snorted. He was glad he had someone reliable in his life like Makki. Someone he could trust. Someone who would be there for him when things went to shit. Because when it came to undercover work, it was inevitable that things went to shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa goes undercover and meets the one person he was supposed to avoid.

Oikawa’s two days off went by fast and, the next thing he knew, he was back at the precinct being debriefed. He sat in Captain Daichi’s office, trying not to look as bored as he felt. It wasn’t his captains’ fault, but the man just had the tendency to make everything sound monotonous and uninteresting. Though, he’d rather be bored than letting his anxiety take over.

Daichi shuffled the papers on his desk and slid them over to Oikawa. ‘Here’s everything you’ll need for this case. However, I’m sure you’ve already memorised it all.’

‘Yup.’

‘Sometimes I think you’re too reliable.’ Wait. Did Daichi make a joke? Oikawa raised a brow. He picked up the pile handed to him and riffled through them. Yep, he knew all of this information. ‘I want this case to be as clean as possible. Go into the charity gala, get the files and get out of there. Don’t talk to anyone unless you have to. Make sure no one remembers your face.’

‘Kind of hard for people to forget a face like mine.’

Daichi huffed out a laugh. ‘Right. Anyway, we won’t be able to put any wires on you. Sources say they’ll be searching every guest. Are you ok with this?’

‘Of course. I’ve done undercover work without wires before.’ And I almost died, he didn’t say. 

Daichi didn’t look convinced. He ran his hands down his face looking as weary as always. Someone needed to give this man a holiday. ‘Just be careful. I didn’t want to throw you into this case so soon after what happened on the last one. But I’m afraid my hands are tied. It’s likely you’re going to be undercover for longer than you think. If you can’t get the file tonight then…well…’

‘Then I’ll need to go deeper undercover.’

‘I don’t want it to come to that.’  
‘But it always does…’ Oikawa mumbled, then caught himself. He plastered a smile on his face and let his voice rise into a playful tone. ‘Don’t worry about me Daichi. I’m great at making new friends. A member of the mafia will be an interesting addition to my list of acquaintances. And it’ll make for a great story at all the work Christmas parties. Hey, maybe I can find out if the mafia really does have an initiation ceremony. Do you think they’ll give me a badass tattoo?’

‘Oikawa.’

‘Yes?’

‘You’re rambling.’

‘Am I?

‘If you’re not up to this job, tell me now. Bokuto would be happy to take on this job.’

‘No!’ he cleared his throat and tried again. ‘No. I’m fine. I promise. I’m the best undercover cop in this whole precinct. You need me.’ Stop trying to manipulate him, he thought, you’ve already got the job. 

Daichi held up a hand to silence him. ‘I’m aware you are the best. But your mental health is important too. I’m not going to stop you from working on this case, but if you decide you can’t hand—if you decide you don’t want to do this—come talk to me.’

‘Ok,’ Oikawa said, unconvinced. He didn’t doubt that Daichi would be there for him if he needed him to be. But the man had less power than he let on. Everyone knew that having a ‘Captain’ in this precinct was just a formality. The commissioner ran the show, not that Oikawa had ever met him. ‘Did you need anything else, Captain?’

‘No. Go over your plan for tonight with Kuroo.’

‘Sir yes sir,’ Oikawa said giving him a mock salute as he got out of his chair and sauntered towards the door.

‘Oikawa?’

‘Yeah?’ he said, looking over his shoulder.

‘I’ll see you soon.’

‘Right.’ He said and exited Daichi’s office. When he stepped into the main room, he was greeted with the soft hum of police work. This productivity was interrupted by Kuroo’s jarring laughter. He leaned against Bokuto’s desk, gripping his stomach as they both laughed at something on Bokuto’s computer screen.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Hey, hey, hey. Oikawa. Just looking at Terushima’s Tinder profile.’

‘Dude is really holding a fish in his profile,’ Kuroo said between cackles. 

‘How’d you find it?’ Oikawa said raising a brow. If they found his account then one of them must have an account too. 

‘By swiping heaps of times,’ Bokuto said, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

‘Aw, is Bokuto going to go on a date with Terushima? How lovely.’

‘What’s with the files?’

‘Oikawa’s going undercover tonight,’ Kuroo explained. He pushed himself up from leaning on the desk. He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the files. ‘What are you planning?’

‘No wires for this one,’ he said, spreading the files across Bokuto’s desk. Kuroo’s shoulders visibly dropped. He loved any excuse to bring out the precinct’s limited tech. ‘But I’ll need a way to communicate with you after the charity gala. Just in case I can’t get the information I need.’

‘Got it. I’ll set up a burner phone. Want wires in your apartment as well?’

‘Depends on if you’re going to set one up in my bathroom again.’

‘Ha! Good times. I promise to be completely professional this time,’ Kuroo said, raising his hand to make an oath. In the corner of his eye, Oikawa could see Bokuto trying his hardest not to crack up. 

Oikawa rolled his eyes and handed his spare apartment key to Kuroo. ‘Try not to make a mess while I’m gone.’

Bokuto bounced out of his wheelie chair and grabbed Oikawa’s shoulder. ‘Do you need back up tonight? I can come.’

‘Not tonight. But I’ll contact Kuroo if I need you,’ Oikawa said, shoving his hands into his pant pockets. If he outright said no, he knew Bokuto would get upset. And he couldn’t have Bokuto upset, just in case he needed his help after the charity gala. Oikawa always thought way too many steps ahead. Bokuto was usually everyone’s backup plan when going undercover. He was great at getting social with targets and becoming their friend immediately but, then again, he also had the tendency to be caught out in lies. He was always a gamble when it came to undercover work.

‘I’ll see you both later then.’

‘Good luck!’ They said simultaneously. Creepy.

—

Oikawa took three steadying breaths. His skin itched and his head spun but he didn’t let his inner turmoil show on his face. He had almost forgotten how nerve-racking undercover work could be. 

He stood in line inside the foyer with a bunch of men and women all decked out in their finest. The woman in front of him had a tight, light purple dress on. Her black hair was pinned up to show off the elegant pearls around her long neck. The man next to her was a direct contrast to her humble display of wealth. His Dior sunglasses had been pushed to the top of his shaved head. His jacket sleeves were rolled up to reveal an expensive watch, which Oikawa didn’t know enough about to place the brand.

He was mumbling something under his breath to the woman. He caught a few words. It sounded like he wasn’t happy that all the guests were being patted down and scanned. The woman hushed him and he immediately shut up. 

The man looked behind him and Oikawa immediately looked away. He took out his phone and refreshed his emails to look busy. If he made eye contact with the man, then he would have to talk to him. Daichi’s words echoed in his mind, ‘don’t talk to anyone unless you have to.’

The line moved forward. When he took a step forward, his bad knee locked. He bit his lip to stop himself from shouting. He pressed his nails into his palms until they cut into his flesh. He pushed down the memories fighting their way to the forefront of his mind. 

It took a few minutes, but his heart stopped beating in his temples and palms stopped sweating: the panic had subsided. I’m in control, he reminded himself, I can do this.

He looked up to see he had finally gotten to the front of the line.

‘Give your invitation and ID,’ the guard said in a low grunt. His dark eyeliner and blond buzzcut had Oikawa wary but he quickly complied with the orders.

The man snatched Oikawa’s fake ID and studied it. He wouldn’t find anything wrong with it. Kuroo had made it. He hated to admit it but Kuroo was somewhat of a genius when it came to technology and forgery. The man raised one, slitted brow and handed the ID back to him.

‘And your invitation Mr…Hanger?’

Oikawa fought the urge to facepalm at the ridiculous name. He handed over the invitation. He was going to make Kuroo’s life hell when he got back from this gala.

‘Tooru is fine.’

The man huffed and cocked his head behind him to where a man holding a metal detector stood. The man’s hair went against all laws of gravity. His locks were pulled up to meet at a single point, kind of like an…Onion? Or maybe a turnip. Oikawa didn’t dwell and took a step towards the man. 

‘Evening,’ he said as pleasantly as he could.

The man gave him a polite smile. ‘Hello. Hold your hands up for me.’

‘Of course.’

‘Hurry it up, Kindaichi. We don’t have all night.’

‘Right!’ Kindaichi said, giving an enthusiastic nod. He brought the metal detector up and down his body in smooth, efficient swipes. The machine crackled but never beeped. ‘You’re all good to go in.’

‘Thank you,’ Oikawa said and stepped forward. Two men stood on either side of the double doors that led to the gala. As he approached, they simultaneously pulled the doors open for him. He stepped into the hall. 

Sparkling chandeliers decorated the high roofs, reflecting golden light onto the guests below. He hadn’t expected the room to be so large. At the back of the room, oil paintings with thick jewelled frames hung from crisp white room dividers that created rows for the guests to walk through. Where he just walked in, round tables covered in white cloth and tall, flickering candles filled the space. To one side stood a stage. 

Oikawa noted a winding staircase right next to the stage. A sign next to it stated that toilets were up those stairs. But those stairs also led to the information he needed—his target’s office.

He contemplated just going up the stairs, getting the file and getting out. But there weren’t enough people in the hall yet. Not everyone had been let it in, meaning he couldn’t hide in any crowds or leave without the line of people in the foyer seeing him. I’ll wait a few hours then go up, he decided. But what would he do in those few hours? He couldn’t talk to anyone, or do anything that would have people remembering him. Maybe he could hide in the bathroom. No, it’d be too difficult to explain if someone asked what he was doing in the bathroom for so long. ‘That shrimp cocktail didn’t agree with me.’ Nope, he’d just have to pretend he loved art.

He swept a glass of champagne from one of the trays carried by the staff and took it over to the back of the room, where the art hung. He took his time sipping his glass, he was too much of a lightweight and he needed his wits about him for this job. It had a sweet taste to it, different from the eight-dollar wine he usually bought for himself and Makki when they were having a movie night. The upside of this job was the fact that he could eat all the fancy food he wanted and drink an endless supply of alcohol without having to pay a cent. If he was going to put his life at risk then he might as well get a good meal from it. 

He stepped in front of each, most likely stolen, paintings and let his eyes zone out. He didn’t take into account the thick, creamy brushstrokes of the naked woman in the painting. Instead, his mind wandered to the job at hand. He listened to the conversations of the guests that floated past and took note of the light-hearted comments about using dirty money to bid on the paintings. 

In the corner of his eye, he spotted a man with grey hair talking to the man with the buzz cut who had stood in front of him earlier. Buzz-cut pointed at another naked woman in a painting and said, ‘ha, nice,’ sending the grey-haired man into a fit of laughter. They high-fived but pulled away when the woman in the purple dress approached.

‘Kiyoko,’ the grey-haired man said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Good to see you.’

‘Hello, Sugawara. Are you having a good evening?’

‘I am now that you’re here,’ he said, giving her a shit-eating grin. She gave him a small smile. Her gaze flicked to Oikawa and they locked eyes. Shit—shit—shit. She turned back to the men in front of her as if she hadn’t seen him. ‘Tanaka, Noya just arrived.’

‘Hell yeah,’ he said, he scanned the room before landing on a short man with a blond streak. ‘Ayyyy!’ he said without any self-preservation. Everyone turned to the two men, giving Oikawa the excuse to look too. He expected everyone to watch the loud interaction with distaste, but there wasn’t a wrinkled nose in sight. In fact, everyone watched with grins on their faces. His heart stuttered at the realisation. 

His eyes snapped to everyone in the room and how they interacted. Men slapped each other on the backs in greeting and women kissed each other on the cheeks. Everyone knew each other: Oikawa was the odd one out. 

Now that he was really paying attention to everyone around him, he could see the not-so-subtle glances the guests sent his way. A couple walked past and when they thought they were out of his hearing range, a woman whispered, ‘who’s that?’

He tried to reason with the growing panic that was constricting his throat. He knew there was a possibility of a lot of the guests knowing each other. He knew there was a possibility they would think it odd him being here. He had to trust in the cover Kuroo made for him—Tooru Hanger, step-son of a rich CEO who’s had dealings with the black market. He was supposed to be representing his ‘step-father’ tonight. In reality, Kuroo had been pretending to be said step-father, sending emails to some ‘Matsukawa’ about potentially trading illegal goods. Kuroo had been sending the emails for months before tonight—this cover is solid, this cover is solid, this cover is solid.

His temples throbbed in the way they always did when a headache was coming on. He wished he brought his glasses. He rubbed at his eyes but stopped when the action earned him weird looks.

He could find Matsukawa now, he thought. He knew what the man looked like from photos; he could probably spot him in the crowd. That way, he could pretend he belonged here, that he knew someone.  
He chugged the rest of the champagne and took a step back and away from the paintings. His back was immediately hit with something solid. He lost balance but a strong arm wrapped around his chest. He spun around and came face to face with the one person he wanted to avoid tonight. He spent so many nights pouring over case files, staring at the tan skin, sharp eyebrows and spiked hair of Iwaizumi—the mafia boss behind the whole operation. Shit, he thought, so much for getting out of here without being remembered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa tries to complete his job. Spoilers, it doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: vomit (not described in detail)

‘Careful,’ Iwaizumi said in the exact low, graveling voice Oikawa had imagined he would have when he poured over his file. He steadied himself on Iwaizumi’s arm before stepping back. Huh, he thought he would be taller.

‘My apologies,’ he said, plastering the most pleasant smile on his face that he could manage. He tried not to squint at the man, but it was hard not to with the eyestrain he was currently battling. ‘I wasn’t looking.’

‘Clearly…Do I know you? You don’t look familiar.’

‘Oh!’ Oikawa said, as if only now realising he hadn’t introduced himself. He hesitated but reasoned that he couldn’t not tell him who he was. This was Iwaizumi’s gala after all. ‘Silly me. I’m here representing Thomas Hanger. I’m Hanger Tooru.’

‘Hanger.’

Oikawa grimaced. ‘Yes, well, Thomas is my stepfather. He had some back-and-forth dealings with a Matsukawa. Matsukawa Issei, I believe said his name was.’ He brought a finger to his lip in thought, as if he hadn’t spent nights memorising everything about Iwaizumi and Matsukawa.

‘Yeah, he probably mentioned something about that. So, you go by your… stepfather’s last name? Hanger?’ he said, raising a thin eyebrow in disbelief.

‘Suits me, right? But no, just call me Tooru.’ His legs twitched to walk away—run away. He raised his glass to down the rest of his champagne but found it empty. Good, he could use that. ‘Well, it seems I’m in need of some more champagne.’

‘Right,’ Iwaizumi said and, thankfully, took that as his cue to walk away. 

He found the nearest person carrying a tray of champagne and swept a glass up. As casually as possible, he sauntered back to the rows of paintings. Now that he was no longer trying not to get noticed, he might as well try and get as much information as possible.

He found the woman in the purple dress, Kiyoko. She studied an oil painting a stormy ocean, waves crashing into a ship. He took a step towards her and hummed at the painting. He couldn’t exactly see the details without his glasses but he was good at pretending. Without looking at her, he said, ‘it’s beautiful.’

Kiyoko hummed. 

‘Are you thinking of bidding on it?’

‘Yes,’ she nodded, her voice was quiet. Shy, he thought, not rude. He stored the information away, ready to use it to his advantage if needed. ‘I think it might look nice in my bedroom.’

‘I must admit, I don’t know much about art. Are these all the real deal?’

‘Yes, many of them have been donated.’

‘This event must be pretty special.’ 

‘Yes, it is a very important charity to Iwaizumi,’ She said without giving anything away. Right, he was asking too many questions. He was getting too reckless. He took a sip of his champagne. Across the room, the buzz-cut guy, Tanaka, had spotted Oikawa and was making his way over to him with a murderous glint in his eye. Kiyoko must be his girlfriend? Partner? Lover? He made a note of this and he turned to Kiyoko with a wide grin.

‘Well, enjoy the rest of your evening…’

‘Kiyoko.’

‘Tooru. Enjoy the rest of your evening Kiyoko. And I hope you get this painting; it really is lovely.’ He floated away just as Tanaka reached them. He put a possessive arm around the woman and glared daggers at Oikawa.   
—

He walked and walked for ten minutes before deciding, fuck it. He made his way to the stairs, putting his glass on an empty table. He’d only had two glasses but his head still felt fuzzy. The alcohol did nothing to cure his worsening headache.

He took one step at a time, gripping the handrail for support. His pulse throbbed on the right side of his head and he squinted against the lights. He didn’t have time to deal with a migraine; he could take a nap once he got these damn files.

At the top of the stairs, a wide hallway stretched out before him. He trudged his feet across the red carpet. He rubbed his eyes and squinted up at the signs on each door. He made out the letters that read ‘toilets’ and passed them to the next door. He had to be quick. He couldn’t let anyone see him. 

He came up to a heavy oak door, the last one at the end of the hall and turned the decorated golden doorknob. He pushed it open and immediately faltered. Two men sat in front of a fireplace, sipping whisky. 

Their heads snapped to him and they shot up from the couch. He held his breath. He hadn’t expected people to be in Iwaizumi’s office. Guarding the front door maybe, but not actually inside. Shit, stay calm. He furrowed his eyebrows and pretended to stumble back into the door.

‘S’rry.’

One of the men stepped in front of him and he immediately recognised the thick eyebrows and tired eyes: Matsukawa. He didn’t recognise the other man who had curtain bangs and a bored expression.

‘How much have you had to drink, man?’ Matsukawa said, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning in to study his face with amusement.

‘M’fine,’ he said. He didn’t have to try hard to slur his words. His migraine had finally won the battle, making his head spin. Talking made the throbbing in his head worsen. 

‘Hey, aren’t you Thomas Hanger’s son? He said you would be here instead of him tonight.’

‘Tha’s me’

‘Do you want to lie down on the other couch? We’ll be quiet.’

He wanted more than anything to lie down. But he couldn’t, he had a job to do. And if Matsukawa and that other guy were going to stay in here, then he’d have to move on to Plan B. ‘It’s fine. Just looking for the bathroom.’

‘Bathroom’s next door.’

‘Thanks,’ he said and stumbled out of the room. If he had wires on, he could have told Kuroo that the first part of the job couldn’t be completed. He could have gotten some advice or called for backup. Maybe Kuroo could have tried to hack something that made the two men need to leave the room. But Oikawa was alone. He had to think for himself, just like he always had. Plan B it is. 

He took one step at a time, gripping the railing with white knuckles. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he noticed everyone was seated at the white-clothed tables. Some people let their fingers ghost over the auction paddles on their table, hesitating. While others threw their paddles up into the air every five seconds. 

Shit. Plan B was to win something at the auction, but it looked like he’d already missed half the stuff up for bid. He hurried to find a seat. He’d have to win something and fast. At least one thing had to go right tonight. 

Iwaizumi stood on the stage next to the auctioneer. His right hand held a mic while his left was shoved into his pant pocket. He casually presented each piece brought up onto the stage. He scanned the crowd and his eyes locked on Oikawa before turning back to a small painting. A painting, yes, he needed to win a painting. That way he could get the authenticity checked and see if the paintings were stolen.

The auction went by with a blur. The lights were too bright and the room too loud. He was vaguely aware that he won some painting of a dog. It was the only thing people didn’t constantly raise the price of. Oikawa could only use so much of the precinct’s funds, so he settled.

When the last piece was sold, waiters filed into the room carrying trays of steaming food: turkey, gravy, spiced lamb, roast vegetables. The food came to his table. The scent of cooked food wafted over to him and a wave of nausea hit him. He smacked his hand over his mouth and shot up from his seat, the wood scratching against the floor. He knew people were staring and whispering but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as he rushed to the bathroom. He took two stairs at a time, his hand still clutching his mouth. He pushed his way into one of the stalls and dropped to his knees. He gagged but nothing came up. His eyes stung with tears. He took heavy breaths through his nose as he gagged again.

The harsh lights of the bathroom shot through his closed eyes. His head spun and his neck felt like someone was stabbing it repeatedly.

‘Everything ok?’ a familiar graveling voice asked. He tried to turn his head towards the voice but another wave of nausea hit and he was soon throwing up into the fancy toilet. 

It felt like forever before he finally got the vomiting under control. He fell onto his butt and pressed his back against the bathroom stall wall. He dragged his hands down his tear-streaked face. His throat burned and his mouth tasted sour. He turned his head to the side and gasped. Iwaizumi stood, watching him with his arms shoved into his pockets. In his race to get to the toilet, he hadn’t shut the door.

‘Sorry.’

Iwaizumi pinched his thighs, shucking his pants up so that he could crouch down to Oikawa’s level. ‘What’s up with you?’

He shrugged. ‘Too much to drink.’

‘Liar. What’s really wrong?’

He threw his head back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘Just a migraine. M’fine.’

‘Did you drive here?’

‘Yeah. I guess I better go home now.’

‘There’s no way I’m going to let you drive home.’

He froze. He turned to Iwaizumi with wide eyes. He wasn’t going to let him leave. Did he know he was a cop? There was no way he could know that.

‘You can’t drive in this state,’ Iwaizumi clarified with a sigh. He dropped his shoulders in relief and Iwazumi rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll take you home.’

‘But your party...’

‘Gala,’ he corrected. ‘But it’s fine. I was leaving soon anyway.’

He hesitated. He didn’t want a mob boss knowing where he lived but he also didn’t have any excuse to say no. He nodded and Iwaizumi helped him up. He held his arm out for him to hold onto. Oikawa’s cheeks flushed; he could walk without any help thank you very much. But when he took a step forward, his head spun and he instinctually reached for his strong bicep to steady himself. This guy must never miss arm day, he thought a little nonsensically.  
—

They stepped out of the gala hall and into the cool night. The wind helped to cool his flushed skin.

‘Bring the Prius out, thanks,’ Iwaizumi said to the chauffeurs that stood outside. The man nodded and a few moments later he drove Iwaizumi’s car up to the curve.

‘Did you need anything else, sir?’

‘No, that’ll be all,’ He said and turned his head towards Oikawa. ‘Let’s go.’

He opened the passenger side and helped him into his seat. 

Iwaizumi drove in silence, most likely for the sake of his migraine. But still, Oikawa couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable when people didn’t talk. The silence made his mind wander. He thought about how dangerous Iwaizumi was. Was he the one behind the dead body in the alley next to the nightclub—Aoba Johsai? It was his club after all. How many people had Iwaizumi hurt? How many people had he killed? 

The man in question tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his heavy insignia ring reflecting the yellow streetlights outside. He tried not to think about what it would be like to have his nose broken by a ring like that.

Oikawa shifted in his seat, turning his body towards his door as if he could survive jumping out of the speeding car. A ridiculous thought, yes, but it brought him some comfort. 

Iwaizumi hadn’t seemed so intimidating at the gala. Maybe because there were a hundred witnesses there, keeping the man from killing him. 

To calm himself, he went over everything he knew about Iwaizumi. He came from old money. Twenty-five-years old. He was a personal trainer before he took over the ‘family business’ after his father died in a freak accident. A death that didn’t look like an accident to Oikawa—but he was told not to ask too many questions so he kept his mouth shut. Iwaizumi spoke fluent Filipino and English. He was smart and dangerous. He was suspected to have killed ten people but there was never any evidence against him. Through the fog in his brain, Oikawa tried to think of a way to use the information he knew to his advantage. He opened his mouth to say something but Iwaizumi beat him to it.

‘Am I going the right way?’

‘Hm? Oh yeah, it’s just up here.’

‘Park Place Apartments?’ he asked surprise leaking through his serious tone. He didn’t look so scary when he actually showed emotion on his face.

Oikawa furrowed his brows. ‘You know it?’

‘No, yeah, kinda.’

They pulled into the carpark. He was helped out of the car again. Oikawa assured Iwaizumi that he’d be fine the rest of the way. He hesitated but nodded.

‘You should really take more care of yourself.’

Oikawa had heard those familiar words many times in his life before. ‘Iwa?’

‘Yeah?’ He didn’t ask how he knew his name—everyone knew who he was. And he merely raised a brow at the nickname.

‘Are you my mum?’ He regretted it as soon as he said it. He kills people for less. Oikawa blamed the alcohol and tiredness for his lack of filter.

Iwaizumi simply raised a brow. He shook his head and huffed out a laugh. ‘Take care, Tooru. Oh, and I’ll have someone bring your car over tomorrow. Your weird-ass dog painting as well.’

‘It’s fine I ca—’

‘Don’t worry about it. Goodnight.’

‘G—Goodnight.’

And with that, Iwaizumi left him in stunned silence. 

He was going to have to go a lot deeper undercover than he thought. But, somehow, he wasn’t worried. This wouldn’t be like last time—he wouldn’t let it be like last time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa finds out Hanamaki and Matsukawa know each other. Things don't end well.

Oikawa spent the next morning sprawled out on Makki’s couch. The TV was turned down low but he could still hear a news reporter talking in a low, nasally voice. He propped one leg up and threw his arm over his eyes. His whole body ached from last night. His head still throbbed slightly, but he thankfully didn’t feel nauseated anymore.

His friend came over from the kitchen, balancing a box of profiteroles and croissants from his fridge. He dumped them on the coffee table and moved Oikawa’s leg so he could sit down.

‘You look like shit.’

‘You’re so mean to me,’ Oikawa pouted but he didn’t have enough energy to put his usual sing-song voice on. ‘But yes. I feel like shit.’

‘And you still can’t tell me anything about what happened?’

He groaned and turned onto his side, causing his glasses to dig into his head and sit at an awkward angle. He flipped onto his back but avoided Hanamaki’s curious gaze. ‘I threw up in front of my target,’ he mumbled, cheeks flushed.

‘Oh…’ he seemed to be processing the information. Instead of showing sympathy, he just snorted. ‘Ha. That’s embarrassing.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, kicking his foot out to hit Makki’s arm with no real strength. Hanamaki reached over and ruffled his hair. ‘Ah! No. You’re gonna mess my hair up.’

‘It already is a mess.’

‘At least I’m not gonna go bald from bleaching it so much,’ he said sticking his tongue out pulling his eye down from under his glasses. 

‘Ha. At least I don’t throw up in front of my targets.’

‘Ouch Makki. Too soon.’

‘Why’d you even throw up?’ Hanamaki with his usual casualness. He didn’t miss the concern in his furrowed eyebrow.

‘Migraine.’

‘Are you still in pain? Did you want some medicine?’

‘Yes please.’

Hanmaki nodded and trudged into the kitchen, sorting through the little box he kept medicine in. A knock came from the door. ‘Can you get that?’

‘Rude. Can’t you see I’m ill?’ Oikawa said but got up. He grabbed the wool blanket on the couch and threw it over his shoulders as he opened the door. He froze. 

Matsukawa stood with wide eyes, mouth hanging open slightly. He fixed his expression back into one of neutrality. ‘Hanger? I didn’t know you knew Hanamaki.’

‘Who is it?’ Hanamaki called from the kitchen. ‘Oikawa?’

His heart stopped. Matsukawa squinted in confusion. Fuck. Did Hanamaki really just blow his cover? Oikawa took a deep breath. His thoughts ran a mile a minute. What was Matsukawa doing here? Was he as dangerous as Iwaizumi? He had to be. He’d read his file. But Oikawa didn’t have any weapons to defend himself. Calm down, he thought, he doesn’t see you as a threat, yet. You can fix this.

‘No,’ he called. ‘It’s not Oikawa. It’s Matsukawa.’

Distantly, he could hear Hanamaki’s footsteps rushing towards him. A hand grabbed onto Oikawa’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly.

‘Hello,’ Makki said slowly. He didn’t look shocked to see Matsukawa. He just looked back and forth between Oikawa and the man at the door as they stared at each other. ‘What’s going on?’

‘You know…You know Matsukawa?’

Hanamaki bit his lip. ‘I’ve tailored a few suits for him. Yes.’

The muscle in Matsukawa’s jaw feathered. ‘Who’s Oikawa?’

‘Our friend,’ he said quickly before Hanamaki could answer. Hanamaki stared at him blankly before realisation dawned upon his face.

‘Yeah. Just a friend. What are you doing here?’

‘Well, I came to see if you knew which apartment Hanger lived in but I guess I don’t need to ask anymore.’ He looked Oikawa up and down and he was suddenly aware that he was in his underwear. He wrapped the blanket tighter around his body.

‘Huh? Oh! My car.’

‘Yup. I parked it on the curb. Here’s your keys. Oh, and I brought your ugly painting,’ he said nodding his head towards the painting that he propped against his legs. 

‘You actually bought that?’ Hanamaki asked, turning to Oikawa.

‘Of course. It reminded me of you.’

Hanamaki shoved him without any force. Matsukawa watched the interaction with a small smile. Inside, Oikawa was screaming but he had to play it cool. 

‘So, are you guys neighbours or something?’ 

He noted he didn’t ask if they lived with each other. So obviously Matsukawa knew Makki well enough to know he lived alone. Why hadn’t Hanamaki told him he knew someone in the mafia? Was it because Oikawa was a cop? He thought they trusted each other. 

He shuffled on his feet, suddenly unable to look at either of them. He pressed the pad of each of his fingers against his thumb. The repetition of the movement calmed him slightly. He plastered a bright smile on his face. 

‘What a small world!’ he threw his arm around Makki’s shoulder who flinched. ‘I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, Matsukawa.’

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll catch you both later then?’ He handed the painting to Oikawa who grabbed it with a little too much force.

‘Bye-bye then.’

Matsukawa walked away. He leaned the painting against the wall and slammed the door shut with his foot. He turned slowly to face Makki, his eye twitching. 

‘So, when were you going to tell me you were friends with a dangerous criminal?’

Hanamaki huffed out a laugh. ‘He’s not dangerous…’ he trailed off, seeming to notice the murderous smile he had on his face. ‘Ok. This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you I was dating Matsukawa.’

‘Sorry I think I misheard you. For some reason, I thought you said you were dating him.’

‘I did.’

‘Ha. You’re funny’

‘I’m not joking.’

‘How long…’ he took a deep breath. ‘How long have you been dating that man?’

‘Just a month.’

‘Just a month,’ Oikawa repeated, feeling the heat of anger tightening in his throat. He clenched his fists but kept his voice calm—reasonable. ‘And how long have you known that man for?’

‘A year.’

‘A year.’

‘Yes.’

‘Dammit, Makki! These are things you are supposed to tell me.’

‘Why? So you can put him behind bars?’

‘You’re such a fucking idiot! How could you?’ He shot the words at Hanamaki without thinking. He didn’t care. He was pissed. 

His friend was usually so calm but he could see the flush in his cheeks growing. He could see his jaw clenching and unclenching with each word Oikawa spat at him. ‘Don’t you get it? He’s dangerous. He belongs in jail. He’s killed people.’ 

‘So have you,’ Makki said, his voice shaking. Oikawa froze, his heart dropping into his stomach. Hanamaki’s eyes widened, realising what he had said. ‘Oikawa. Sorry, I—’

He held a hand up to cut him off and pushed his way out the front door. He still had the blanket wrapped around his shoulders; he’d return it later—Maybe.

—

He threw himself back onto his own couch and stared up at the blank ceiling. He’s right, a voice at the back of his head whispered in his ear, you’re just like the criminals you lock up. You don’t deserve to act like you’re any better. 

He dragged a hand down his face. Guilt clawed at his chest, ripping the air from his lungs. His knee throbbed. Murderer—murderer—murderer. The voice in his head didn’t stop screaming. He balled his fists into his hair and shook with the urge to scream. Stop getting emotional and get on with your job. 

He snatched his phone off his coffee table and scrolled through his contacts with trembling fingers. He found the number he was looking for and clicked. The phone rang—rang—rang—

‘Hello?’

‘Hi. Kuroo. I got a painting. When can you come and check it out?’

‘Hm. Guess I can come over in a couple of hours.’

‘Thanks. Don’t bring Bokuto with you.’

‘Bahaha. No guarantees there. See ya,’ he said and hung up before he could reply.

He sighed and sat up. His head was still pounding in his temple. He stood to go grab a glass of water and paused. 

‘Dammit.’ He left the painting at Hanamaki’s house. He couldn’t face him now. He’d just have to wait until he had calmed down. Then he could cross the gap between them and grab that damn dog painting. He could pretend they hadn’t just fought. He could pretend Hanamaki wasn’t putting himself in danger by being around people like Matsukawa. Yes, for now, he could pretend everything was fine.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa and Makki talk things out. Kuroo and Bokuto pay a visit.

Oikawa waited until the very last second before knocking on the door.

Hanamaki flung the door open. His eyes were red and puffy. He pulled his lips into a thin line. ‘Oikawa, I—’

‘I, uh, I left the painting here.’

‘Right.’ He opened the door further to let him in. The painting sat against the wall in the exact spot he had left. The bloodhound in the painting wore a suit and sat at a dinner table. Its eyebrows were slightly raised and its black eyes stared into Oikawa’s soul as if to mock him. The dog’s uncomfortably human-like expression felt like it was saying, ‘did you seriously spend police funds on me?’

Oikawa shook his head and lifted the heavy frame. He took it to the open door but his guilt stopped him from going further. So much for pretending nothing happened between them. He spun on his heels. He rubbed the back of his neck and struggled to look Hanamaki in the eyes. His skin was uncomfortably warm. 

‘Listen Makki I—uh…’ when was the last time he apologised to someone? It was a lot harder than he thought. Hanamaki’s eyebrows practically shot to his hairline when he realised what Oikawa was doing. ‘Well, you see…I shouldn’t have… I uh…I won’t tell anyone that Matsukawa is doing shady shit if you don’t tell Matsukawa I’m a cop.’ Oikawa flinched at his own words. He was supposed to be apologising, not using manipulation to save his own ass. 

Hanamaki didn’t look bothered though. His shoulders slumped in relief and he snorted. ‘Deal. And Oikawa?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You don’t need to apologise. I’m the one who stepped out of line. I shouldn’t have brought up—’

‘Aw, how sweet. Does that mean we are friends again?’

‘Regretfully so. Now take your weird dog painting and go.’

‘Ok, ok,’ Oikawa said, feeling better now that the guilt constricting his chest had eased. He stepped into the hall before looking over his shoulder. He let his tone turn serious. ‘Tell me Makki?’

‘What’s up?’

‘Did you start dating Matsukawa to get over your burning desire for me?’

Hanamaki stared for a moment, a smile twitching at his lips. He bit his lip and opened his mouth. Oikawa turned around fully, curiosity taking over. The door was promptly slammed in his face. He probably deserved that.

At that point, Kuroo decided to make an appearance. Kuroo…and Bokuto. He sighed. He needed this job done quickly and Bokuto always managed to distract Kuroo. 

‘This must be the painting,’ Kuroo said, coming down the hall. They were both still wearing the dark blue pants and white button-ups that they were forced to wear at the precinct. But Kuroo and thrown on a leather jacket, and Bokuto wore a grey hoodie. Oikawa nodded and opened his door to let him in. They both threw themselves onto his couch. He lay the painting on the dented coffee table and braced himself for what he knew was about to happen. They immediately burst into laughter.

‘What the fuck is that?’ Kuroo cackled, clutching his stomach. Bokuto’s head fell backward. He clutched Kuroo’s chest for support as he didn’t even try to get his laughter under control.

When the laughter finally died down, Oikawa took the opportunity to speak. ‘Not that it isn’t lovely to see you, Bokuto. But what exactly are you doing here?’

‘Oh yeah. Daichi wants a debriefing of last night.’

‘And he trusted you with that?’

‘Yeah. Why wouldn’t he?’ 

Oikawa smiled as sweetly as he could. ‘No reason. Ok, so last night at around eight pm…are you going to write this down?’

‘No, why?’

‘Write this down, Bokuto.’

‘Uh, fine,’ he dug around in his pocket and pulled out his phone. Oikawa thought about telling him about the dangers of keeping sensitive information on a phone, but he didn’t want to deal with one of Bokuto’s sudden mood swings. He began typing, using his pointer finger and thumb.

As he got through the events of what happened at the charity gala, Kuroo got his equipment out of his backpack. He pulled out his laptop and setting it up on the coffee table next to the painting. He then pulled out a pair of circular magnify glasses.

Kuroo slid onto his knees and leaned over the painting, pulling the glasses over his eyes. He turned to Bokuto and grinned, his eyes now enlarged and bug-like. Bokuto naturally found this hilarious. Oikawa stopped talking, knowing he wasn’t writing any of what he was saying down. Though, he wasn’t mad. Oikawa could appreciate some good old-fashioned magnify glass humour. Kuroo adjusted his glasses by flicking the small circular lenses attached to the glasses until he got the right strength. He turned back to the painting to study it, his forearms leaning against the edge of the table. He hummed.

‘It definitely looks real.’ 

‘So, it’s authentic? Stolen?’

‘It’s hard to tell. I’ll have to take it back to the labs and have Kita do a full analysis.’

‘How about an anal-ysis?’

Kuroo cracked up at Bokuto’s poorly executed joke. ‘Nice.’

Oikawa coughed. Bokuto turned back to him, phone at the ready. His tongue subconsciously stuck out the side of his mouth in concentration. Oikawa hesitated to tell him the rest of what happened—about what happened with Iwaizumi. His cheeks flushed and he continued despite his embarrassment.

‘Then I placed a bid on a painting and obviously won.’ He quickly shared the final figure he placed on the painting. Kuroo’s head snapped towards him before shaking it off and muttering under his breath, ‘at least it’s not coming out of your pay-check.’

‘So you didn’t go back to the office?’ Bokuto pressed on. ‘To see if those two guys left?’

‘Nope. Too risky. After that…Iwaizumi Hajijme drove me home.’

‘Wait what?’ Kuroo and Bokuto asked at the same time. Creepy. 

‘Go back,’ Kuroo said, pulling off his glasses as he was no longer interested in the painting. He threw them onto the coffee table with a thump. Oikawa cringed. ‘I think you’ve missed a step.’

‘Well, if you’re desperate to know. I was ill and Iwaizumi offered to drive me home.’

‘Should I just write that you seduced him?’

‘No, you should not. I was actually sick thank you very much. It wasn’t a part of the act, and all he did was drive me home.’

‘So do I write that you kissed him goodnight or not?’

Kuroo held his hand out and Bokuto high-fived him. Oikawa rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. This was the exact reason he didn’t want Kuroo and Bokuto to be paired up for this. What the hell was Daichi thinking? It was like Kuroo lost brain cells when he was around Bokuto. 

He opened his mouth to say something that would get them back to work, but the buzzing of Kuroo’s laptop stopped him. On the screen, a tab popped up with the file Kuroo had forged for him. Kuroo gasped and turned to his laptop, tapping away furiously. For a minute the room was completely silent except for the steady click—click—click of Kuroo’s long fingers on the keys. The typing stopped.

‘Good news, Hanger. Someone’s looking your file up. The bad news is they have hidden their tracks well. I can’t see their IP address anywhere.’

Oikawa jumped down onto his knees so he could watch the screen closer. His bad knee throbbed at the motion but he ignored it. ‘Aw Kuroo,’ he whined. ‘Can’t you use your hacking magic to bounce signals off local cell towers, or whatever it is they do in movies?’

‘Nope. If I go in too deep, they might realise they are being watched.’ Kuroo didn’t turn his eyes away from the screen. He pulled up Oikawa’s ‘file’—the one they had created for this job. In it contained pictures and documents that made him cringe—photos of old university parties where he was less than sober, DUI’s, drug possession charges, a rehab certificate. Some of the stuff was real, taken from Oikawa’s real for authenticity purposes. But still, it left him with an unease as to what his life could have turned into. 

At the time of making the file, Kuroo had tried to cheer him up with a fake mugshot photoshoot. Everyone knew Oikawa’s favourite part of undercover work was dressing up. It was funny at the time, putting on makeup and a jumpsuit, but seeing the results made him shiver. He stared into the camera with a smirk and bruises covering his face. He looked like he belonged in that jumpsuit.

—

‘It’ll be more authentic if we actually punch you in the face,’ Bokuto had said as Kuroo set up the camera in front of the height measuring backdrop used in all mugshots. Bokuto took a step forward and Oikawa held up a hand.

‘Get away from my beautiful face.’

‘It’ll still be beautiful after I punch it. Come on Oikawa. Pleaseee.’

‘Nope,’ he said as Terushima continued to smudge black and blue eyeshadow across his face. He dipped his heavily ringed fingers into the powdery substance and leaned in close to Oikawa’s face. His breath smelt like spearmint gum over the top of cigarette, like how people wore perfume to cover up body odour but you can still smell the sweat. The powder rained down, landing on his navy-blue uniform pants. Terushima played with his tongue piercing between his teeth and something stirred deep within Oikawa. Nope, he wasn’t going to let himself be attracted to Terushima of all people.

‘You know what would look totally badass?’ Terushima said with a gasp but didn’t elaborate further. He dipped his fingers into the black eyeshadow and, without warning, swiped it across his eyes and downward. Oikawa flinched, blinking rapidly. He looked in the little stand-up mirror on Terushima’s desk. The eye shadow pooled under his eyed like he had been sweating—or crying.

‘What was that about?’

‘Now you look effortlessly like a hot mess.’

Bokuto hummed, tapping his finger against his lips. His eyes widened and his finger shot into the air. ‘Oh, I know! He kinda looks like a hooker.’

‘That’s offensive to hookers,’ Kuroo said, not turning away from his camera. ‘Now can we hurry up and take these photos before Daichi gets mad.’

‘Nope,’ Terushima said, pulling a hairbrush out of his bag. ‘I need to do his hair first.’

‘No way. Nope. You are not messing up my hair.’

Terushima rolled his eyes. ‘Stop underestimating me, Oikawa. I’ll fix it afterward, I swear.’ Without waiting for a reply, he began teasing Oikawa’s perfect curls out. ‘So, Kuroo, what’re you going to say he’s being arrested for?’

‘Drug possession would be the best way to go since Iwaizumi’s gang is rumoured to smuggle drugs,’ Kuroo said, cringing slightly. Oikawa flinched. ‘But I’m sure Daichi won’t mind if we do something else. Creative liberties and all that.’ He watched Oikawa’s reaction in the corner of his eyes. Waiting for him to protest. Bokuto and Terushima went silent too, staring at him—waiting. Did they all really think him to be that weak? 

‘It’s fine. Stop looking at me like that. We’ll do drug possession,’ Oikawa said and quickly moved to change the subject. ‘What’s my name gonna be? Something incredibly handsome and exotic I hope?’

‘We’ll keep your first name as Tooru. It’s easier. But as for your last nam—’

‘Hanger!’ Bokuto said, jumping up and down. ‘Hanger Tooru, Hanger Tooru, Hanger Tooru,’ he chanted. Kuroo laughed. 

‘Genius.’

‘You are not calling me Hanger Tooru. That’s too ridiculous to be believable.’ 

He was never going to escape the joke that ran through the whole precinct. An intern had walked into the room when Terushima had once said ‘can you pass me a coat hanger Tooru?’ But they had only heard the last part of the sentence. The intern had started calling him ‘Hanger’ from then on, thinking it was his name, and the joke quickly circulated through the entire precinct. 

Now, Oikawa sat in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his face. 

‘We have to!’ Bokuto said. ‘It suits you.’

Oikawa contemplated the words. ‘I…I can pass for half foreign? Incredible,’ he whispered to himself with a little smile on his face.

‘We’ll make your stepfather a foreigner,’ Kuroo said, dusting his hands off and rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up.

‘That makes no sense. People don’t change their last names when their parents remarry.’

‘Happens all the time. And it makes sense if your stepfather is totally rich and you want all his money.’

‘Whatever let’s just take these photos.’

—

‘Ohoho,’ Kuroo said, pulling up some confusing-looking code on his laptop. ‘Oikawa how many people did you meet at the gala?’

‘Just Iwaizumi, Matsukawa and a woman—Kiyoko.’

‘No one named Kenma?’

Oikawa cast his mind back to that night. ‘No. Why?’

‘This hacker is good. But I am too. I managed to get a name without digging too deep—the computer is under the name Kenma.’

‘Could be a stolen computer,’ Oikawa thought out loud. ‘Or maybe someone hired this Kenma person to look into me.’

‘Shit,’ Kuroo said. ‘We didn’t actually expect anyone to look you up. This is bad.’

‘Maybe not,’ Oikawa said, trying to think of the positives. He sat back on the couch and crossed his legs. Bokuto yawned, tightening the strings of his hoodie and leaning back into the couch. ‘If some is looking me up then they must be interested in me. Why wouldn’t they be? I’m me.’ He smiled and when Kuroo didn’t look convinced, he continued.

‘Plan A of the job was a bust. Iwaizumi knows who I am when he wasn’t even supposed to remember my face. Plan A failing means Plan C is going to be a lot easier to succeed.’

Bokuto furrowed his brows and cocked his head to the side. ‘What’s Plan C?’

‘Yeah, no offense Oikawa, but your lack of creativity when it comes to labelling plans is getting kind of confusing.’

‘Plan C is: getting close to Iwaizumi’s mafia and finding out what I can.’

‘You really want to do that?’

‘I have to.’

‘You really don’t, man. You’re allowed to say no to putting yourself in dangerous situations. After what happened last time…The department kind of owes you.’

‘I can do this.’ He said, tightening his fists into balls. His heart hammered in his chest but he kept his face neutral. He was good at pretending after all. ‘I’ve already got a way in.’

‘You do?’

‘Is it from seducing Iwaizumi?’

‘Nope. Matsukawa.’

‘You seduced Matsukawa? Nice.’

‘No, I didn’t seduce Matsukawa. But we both have a mutual. I can use that.’

‘You have a mutual with someone in the mafia?’ Kuroo asked, finally turning his attention to Oikawa. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Is this a “don’t ask questions” scenario?’

‘Yep!’

Oikawa grimaced at the thought of using Hanamaki’s relationship with Matsukawa for his own personal gain. But he couldn’t let his feelings get in the way of this case. He had a job to do. There was a reason he was the best undercover cop in the precinct. He’d worked for that title—suffered for that title—and he’d damn well hold on to that title.

‘I can do this.’


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Oikawa forgets to eat and generally doesn't take care of himself.

Oikawa spent the next few days cooped up in his apartment trying to figure out a way to subtly infiltrate Iwaizumi’s mafia. His neck ached from bending over his laptop and his eyes kept zoning out no matter how many times he blinked. His stomach rumbled. When was the last time he ate?

He stood up to stretch and black spots danced across his vision. He gripped his desk for support. Ok, maybe he should eat something. He left his bedroom just as Hanamaki entered his apartment, carrying two plastic bags.

‘You left your door unlocked,’ he said as Oikawa clutched his hammering heart.

‘Jesus Makki. You could have knocked.’

‘I did. Several times. Are you avoiding me?’

‘What? No,’ he said. He pulled out his phone and gasped—it was already six o’clock. ‘I must have lost track of time. I’ve been working.’ He brought a hand up to his shoulder and massaged the collection of knots in his muscles. He rolled his shoulders out and grimaced at the stiffness.

‘You mean overworking.’

He bit his lip and let out a sheepish laugh. ‘Aw, it's cute when you worry about me.’

‘Do you want this curry or not?’

‘Ooh yes please. I’m starving.’

They took the food across to Hanamaki’s apartment, ‘for a change of scenery,’ he said even though their apartments had the same off-white walls and the same layout. 

Hanamaki’s apartment was definitely the nicer of the two when it came to décor. His friend spent more time at home so he had more time to hang up photos and actually keep plants alive. Being between jobs meant Hanamaki kept most of his projects at home. Half-finished paintings sat in the living room from the time he tried to be an artist—which left the control-freak in Oikawa itching to tell him to finish them. The studio light he used, when he tried to be a photographer, was still unpacked by the TV. He had once asked Oikawa to model for him, which naturally made his ego sore through the roof. The results were hung in Makki’s hallway—black and white images of Oikawa’s body, ‘artsy nudes’ he called them. And of course, his tailoring projects lay across his dining room table.

Oikawa’s apartment, on the other hand, practically looked the same as when he first moved in—neat and boring. Maybe that’s why he spent so much time in Makki’s apartment.

Hanamaki dumped the bags on the bench and pulled out the containers. Steam wafted out and his mouth watered. He hadn’t realised he had been so hungry until he was presented with food.

They ate on the couch, leaning their backs against either side of the armrest so their feet were inches apart.

‘Do I need to start checking up on you again? Make sure you’re taking care of yourself?’

Oikawa swallowed and kept his gaze on his steamed rice. It had been months since he got so caught up in work that forgot to eat. Makki had the right to be worried. The other month, he stayed awake for two nights and fainted when he got up to answer the door for Makki.

‘Maybe,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He stabbed at his food without looking up. ‘Maybe you could come over tomorrow?’

Hanamaki nodded and moved to change the topic. He appreciated the way his friend never asked questions Oikawa was too uncomfortable to answer. Hanamaki could read him better than anyone else.

After dinner, they lay in Hanamaki’s bed and turned on the Vampire Diaries. They both only gave half their attention to the TV as they scrolled through their phones.

‘Elena is so annoying,’ Oikawa said, glancing up at the TV. 

‘I don’t know, she kind of reminds me of you.’

Oikawa shoved him with the hand he wasn’t using to scroll through his Twitter feed. ‘Rude.’

‘Oh,’ Makki said, sitting up and looking at his phone. ‘Matsukawa’s coming over.’

Oikawa threw his phone onto the bed and sat up with him. His mind already back in work mode. This would be a good opportunity to get closer to Matsukawa and, therefore, closer to Iwaizumi. 

‘Nope. I know that look. You’re not going to question my boyfriend while I’m in the room. I feel bad enough lying to him about who you really are.’

‘Fine,’ he said, throwing himself back down onto the bed with a huff. ‘Should I leave?’

‘Nope. I won’t let you do that either. Not when you’re like this.’

Oikawa pursed his lips to the side in thought. He shrugged and curled up onto his side, The Vampire Diaries completely forgotten. Hanamaki put his phone down and lay down to face him.

‘It’s kinda weird to think…’ Oikawa said, running his fingers down the crisp grey cotton of the blankets.

Hanamaki hummed in question. 

‘That you and Matsukawa have probably done it on this very bed.’

‘Oh my god.’

‘Is he good at least?’

‘Oh my god!’ Hanamaki hit him with the sleeve of his light blue jumper. Oikawa rubbed his arm despite not actually being hurt. He laughed and jumped across the bed, out of Makki’s reach. Hanamaki grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him towards him. Oikawa made an ‘oof’ sound as he fell onto his back but quickly recovered.

‘Does he whisper dirty things to you? Ooh, Hanamaki I love the way your hair falls out from the amount of bleach you put in it.’ His voice was muffled when Makki smothered him with his pillow. The lack of air didn’t stop his flow of teasing though. With the pillow covering his face and ears, he didn’t hear the bedroom door open. ‘Mm Matsukawa your eyebrows are so thick and sexy.’ The pillow was removed from his face, blasting him with fresh air.

‘Thanks.’

His head snapped to the side to see Matsukawa leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His leather jacket made a satisfying rustling sound. 

It must have been a sight to walk in on—Hanamaki straddling Oikawa with a pillow over his face while the Vampire Diaries played in the background. He sat up, smoothing his hair down. He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. Matsukawa smirked and pushed himself off the doorframe, his heavy boots muffled by the carpet.

‘Should I come back later?’

Hanamaki threw a peace sign in greeting. ‘Nope. I need someone to stop me from killing Tooru.’

‘Well then. You’re welcome, Hanger.’ Hanamaki flinched at the name but he played it off with a cough. Matsukawa pressed his knee into the edge of the bed and twirled his car key around his finger. ‘I’m going to the club tonight. Wanna come?’

Oikawa perked up. ‘Club?’

‘Yeah, club Aoba Johsai. Heard of it?’

‘The one Iwaizumi owns?’ he cocked his head to the side. He ignored the way Makki glared at him for lying in front of him. He’d apologise later.

‘That’d be the one. Wanna come too?’

‘Sounds fun.’

‘Tooru,’ Hanamaki said slowly. Oikawa grimaced. He should have known Makki wouldn’t let the whole ‘overworking’ thing go. ‘Did you sleep last night?’

‘Yep! Today was the only day I lost track of time. Pinky swear.’

Hanamaki hesitated before sighing. He threw his hands in the air. ‘Fine. Ok. We’ll go. But if you faint, I won’t catch you this time.’ 

He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. ‘You really know how to treat me right, Makki.’ He hopped off the bed and pat Matsukawa on the shoulder. ‘Hold on to this one. He’s a keeper. 

‘I’ll be ready in fifteen!’ he laughed when Hanamaki threw a pillow at his head. 

He sprinted out the door, kicking the closed behind him. Before he left, he caught Matsukawa’s muffled words: ‘I like him.’

He smiled to himself and went to get ready.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa goes to Iwaizumi's club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts with Daichi's POV for a bit. Soz if you're not into that.
> 
> CW: mention of drugs, alcohol, and violence.

Three years earlier

Daichi sat in his office, resting his elbows on his desk as he massaged his temples. Sugawara Koushi sat opposite him; his arms crossed over the pale plains of his smooth chest. Daichi had to make a conscious effort to look Sugawara in the eyes instead of ogling the way his shirt was unbuttoned all the way to just above his navel. If he looked, then Sugawara won this strange game of power they were playing.

‘So, Daichi, can I call you Daichi?’

‘It’s Captain Sawamura.’

‘Daichi it is. It’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve been in contact with your, what do you call him, your Commissioner?’ He kicked his feet up onto the desk. Daichi gritted his teeth at the way dirt from his boots rained down on his paperwork. ‘So, the thing is. Your Commissioner isn’t too happy that the Shiratorizawa gang is gaining influence on the streets.’

‘Yes. I have men working on this.’

‘Of course, of course. I’m not saying your boss thinks your incompetent or anything.’

‘I didn’t think you were—’

‘I believe the word he used was slow. Yeah, that was it. He doesn’t think you are getting results quick enough. Luckily for you, my gang is also not happy with Shiratorizawa.’ 

‘Like I said,’ Daichi said. Sugawara’s smile grew at the growing anger in his tone. He calmed himself with a sigh. He’d only been talking to him for a few minutes and he already felt a headache growing in his temples. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with people like Sugawara Koushi. ‘Like I said. I have men working on it.’

‘Those three undercover cops?’ Daichi flinched and Sugawara chuckled. ‘Don’t worry I don’t know who they are. Your boss just mentioned them. Unfortunately, if we go for what’s somewhat safe here, it’ll mean things never change.’

‘And what you’re saying is you want to help the police?’

‘I just think we can both help each other out here. A small-time gang like Karasuno isn’t going to be closely monitored by a power-house gang like Shiratorizawa. I’ve met the leader of the gang, Reon, he didn’t seem all that intimidated by me. That’s how I like things to be. He won’t see it coming. He’s too worried about the mafia.’ At that, he looked at Daichi with a raised eyebrow.

‘Aoba Johsai isn’t our main concern right now,’ he said as the only explanation for the police doing nothing about the mafia. 

‘Right,’ Sugawara said, kicking his feet off the desk. He leaned his elbows onto his thighs and cocked his head to the side. ‘What you mean is you have no evidence against them. But Shiratorizawa? Now that is a gang with some weighty evidence against them. Is it true they are smuggling cocaine to literally every nightclub this side of the city?’  
‘I’m not at liber—’ his phone buzzed to life, interrupting him. The caller ID said ‘Oikawa’, which made his heart drop to his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to call Daichi with his personal mobile while on a case. He hadn’t seen him in months. Oikawa had been on the Shiratorizawa case for five months now—the deepest he had ever gone undercover. Daichi received status updates from Kuroo who talked to Oikawa each night on a burner phone. The fact that he was calling him now just didn’t make sense. He eyed the phone.

‘Your phone’s ringing.’

‘Yes, it is.’ He contemplated the risks of answering it in front of Sugawara. The phone stop buzzing before starting again.

‘Here. I’ll answer it for yo—’

‘Wait—’ he said, jumping forward. But it was too late. Sugawara snatched up the phone and accepted the call, putting it on speaker. 

‘Hello?’

‘Daichi?’ Oikawa’s voice sounded wrong as it crackled through the speaker. It was strained and quiet and had a slight slur to it. It sounded like he was crying. A shiver ran through his whole body. ‘Daichi. I fucked up—I fucked up—I fucked up.’

Sugawara slowly handed the phone to Daichi, his grey brows furrowed. ‘Maybe you should answer.’

He snatched the phone up. ‘Oikawa? What’s wrong? Do you need back up?’

‘I–I…’ his breath was heavy. He was close to hyperventilating. Daichi’s training kicked in.

‘Oikawa, I need you to breathe. Do you need back up?’ His hands shook as he talked. But Oikawa didn’t know that. He kept his voice calm for his sake.

‘I think…I think I need an ambulance.’

Daichi’s heart hammered in his chest. He gripped his phone until his knuckles went white. Sugawara leaned in, concern evident on his face despite not knowing Oikawa. He held up his own phone and he realised he was calling the ambulance. Daichi quickly grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down Oikawa’s location. He slid the paper over to Sugawara who nodded and began reading it off to the operator. He brought his attention back to the phone. ‘Ok. I can do that for you. Is Ushijima with you?’

‘No,’ Oikawa said, his voice tight—almost like a whine. ‘He…he left me.’

His words didn’t sound right to Daichi’s ears. Ushijima wouldn’t just leave Oikawa like that. Especially if he was injured enough to need an ambulance. ‘Where’s Kageyama?’

At that, Oikawa started hyperventilating again. His cries were like knives in Daichi’s chest. ‘I fucked up—I fucked up—I fucked up.’

‘Oikawa,’ he said, dread creeping in the pit of his stomach. ‘Where’s Kageyama?’

‘It was an accident—Ushijima had. He had a gun on me—the drugs, they’re making me. My head, it’s…’ Oikawa said, letting out a wet, choked cough. He sounded so young—he was too young for this. His words didn’t make sense. Why would Ushijima have his gun on him? Why would a cop turn their gun on another cop? Daichi reasoned that maybe Oikawa had hit his head. That must have been why he sounded so dazed and confused. ‘And—and my knee. I didn’t mean to! I swear!’ His voice was getting more slurred.

‘It’s ok. Oikawa, you’re ok. The ambulance is on its way. Just stay on the phone with me, alright?’

‘Ok,’ he whispered. Daichi’s whole body tensed. He was worried Oikawa wasn’t going to be able to stay awake until the ambulance got there. He kept repeating ‘I fucked up—I fucked up—I fucked up,’ like a mantra, or a punishment sentence. His voice words grew further and further apart until he stopped speaking.

‘Oikawa? Oikawa?’

—  
Now  
Oikawa looked at the clothes piled onto his bed and cringed. He would regret making a mess when he got home in the early hours of the morning.

He moved to the floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite his bed and checked out his outfit. He tucked his oversized shirt into his high wasted jeans and grinned at his reflection. He looked good. He spun around to check out the back of the outfit. Yikes. His ass was definitely as flat as Hanamaki said, but he guessed he made it work. 

He forgot how much he missed going out clubbing until now. His ‘getting ready’ playlist blasted through his room as he leaned in close to his mirror and a bit of eyeliner across his lash line. His rings, which were stacked on his fingers, were cool against his cheek as he worked to smudge the eyeliner out with the tip of his finger. 

Normally he would have some sort of alcohol on his bedside table so that he could pregame. But recovery meant no drinking, even three years later. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that he drank champagne at the charity gala. He tried not to think about the excuses he made that night. Hanamaki would be upset if he found out Oikawa drank just to fit into his surroundings. He pushed the thought aside and instead threw a piece of gum in his mouth. He grabbed his keys and left his bedroom.

Hanamaki and Matsukawa sat side by side in his living room. He hadn’t heard them come in, most likely because of his speaker blasting music. Hanamaki looked up from his phone and raised an eyebrow.

‘What happened to you being ready in fifteen?’

‘Beauty takes time.’

‘Apparently.’ Hanamaki stood up and adjusted his patchwork denim jacket. ‘I already regret letting you coming with us.’

He laughed and threw his arm around Hanamaki’s shoulder. ‘This is going to be so fun.’

‘Yeah, yeah. You always say that and then tell me you're bored two seconds after arriving.’

‘You know me too well. I pinky swear I won’t get bored.’ 

‘Pretty sure that’s not something you can control.’

Matsukawa pushed himself off the couch and grinned. ‘Don’t worry, Hanamaki. This is Aoba Johsai we are talking about. Tooru isn’t going to get bored.

—

Matsukawa was right, Oikawa was far from bored. He felt like he was famous and important when they skipped the line and were immediately let in. His skin buzzed with excitement as he was greeted by the cool blue lights of the club. The deep base of the music drummed in his ears and rumbled through his skull. Sweaty bodies swayed together, their drinks spilling down their arms as they knocked each other about.

Oikawa joined the crowd for a while. He lost himself in the music. He closed his eyes and threw his head back onto the shoulder of someone behind him. The hands of the person behind him dropped to his hips. Oikawa smirked. He still had it.

A few feet ahead, Makki and Matsukawa sat at the bar, sipping their drinks and passing a cigarette between each other. Every so often, Hanamaki would glance at Oikawa to make sure he was ok. He sent him a bright smile every time. He could handle himself.

The hands on his hips wandered lower and soon a mouth was sucking on his neck. He turned his head to the side to give the man behind him more access. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Makki was staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Oikawa sent him a wink. Hanamaki laughed and turned away.

‘Want to get out of here?’ The man’s raspy voice mumbled into his ear. Oikawa shivered and looked back at the bar. He almost froze when he saw Iwaizumi Hajime leaning against the bar, leaning over to shout greetings at Matsukawa and Hanamaki as if they were old friends. Iwaizumi wore a tight black shirt that showed off everything. He dragged his hands through his hair and his strong arms flexed with the movement. Oikawa bit his lip and grabbed the head of the man behind him, pulling his mouth back onto his neck. Makki gestured his head towards him and Iwaizumi turned to meet Oikawa’s gaze. Heat pooled in his belly at the heavy eye contact and the sensation of his neck being sucked on. He bit back a smile and Iwaizumi chuckled, shaking his head. The mouth left his neck.

‘Can I at least buy you a drink?’

Oikawa finally turned to face the man behind him. He was handsome, he supposed, with short blond hair and an eyebrow piercing. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and lifted himself onto his tiptoes so he could say into the man’s ear, ‘Nope!’ 

He sauntered over to the bar, leaving the man to stand there stunned. 

Iwaizumi watched him approach. His arms and ankles were crossed and he leaned his back on the ba. He nodded at Oikawa in greeting.   
‘Hi again,’ he yelled into Iwaizumi’s ear.

Iwaizumi turned so his warm breath fell on Oikawa’s flushed ear. ‘Feeling better?’

‘Yep,’ he said and let his eyes linger on Iwaizumi’s arms. It was the first time he noticed that he had a tattoo on his arm—a crown covered in vines. He made a note of it as a potential symbol for the mafia. He grinned up at Iwaizumi. ‘Much better.’

‘I was taking Matsukawa and Hanamaki to the VIP area. Wanna come?’

This would be the perfect opportunity to get close to Iwaizumi and his mafia. Maybe he could do what Bokuto had joked about and seduce Iwaizumi. He’d used seduction to get information before, and it definitely helped when his target was attractive. He watched Oikawa beneath his hooded eyes. His chest swelled at the undivided attention.

‘Yep,’ he said and leaned in so their faces were inches apart. Iwaizumi’s gaze flickered to his mouth. Good. At the last second, he changed directions and brought his face to Iwaizumi’s ear. He held his muscled arm for balance, despite being completely steady on his feet. ‘Lead the way Iwa.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is anyone even reading this? lmaooo


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some Iwaoi interactions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of addiction recovery & past trauma (not in a lot of detail). Also, some gun violence.

The VIP room sat on the top level of the club. A wide window spread across the back wall, looking over the dance floor below. There was a private bar here, where that blond buzzcut guy from the gala stood behind. Oikawa would have thought he was Iwaizumi’s personal bartender if it wasn’t for the fact that, upon seeing him rifling through the fridge, Iwaizumi said, ‘Oi, Kyoutani, stop taking all the booze.’ Without looking up from the fridge he threw his middle finger up at Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s heart stopped. He kept his face calm but his mind was racing with everything he had read about Iwaizumi. He had let his own damn horniness cloud his mind up until this point. Iwaizumi was a criminal. He had a temper and probably killed people for just looking at him the wrong way. There was no way this 'Kyoutani' was going to get away with flipping the bird at him. 

Iwaizumi just rolled his eyes and threw himself onto the long ‘L’ shaped leather couch that over-looked the dance floor. Oikawa just stood there; he waited for him to pull a gun on Kyoutani or at least cuss him out. But all he did was spread his arms across the back of the couch and cross his ankles on top of the sleek black coffee table. Hanamaki and Matsukawa sat on the other end of the couch. 

Oikawa stood still. Iwaizumi furrowed his brows and gestured for him to sit with a cock of his head. He shook his panic aside and sat down next to Iwaizumi. He sat as close to him as he could, but his skin screamed at the close contact. His body itched to get away. Oikawa smiled. The number one rule of undercover work was to pretend everything was fine. As soon as you showed your panic then your cover was blown.

This ‘character’ he was playing was supposed to be used to criminal activities. His step-father ‘Thomas Hanger’ was supposed to be a criminal himself. He needed to get a grip. Sure, he hadn’t gone deep undercover in three years, but that didn’t mean he had the right to act like a rookie. 

In the corner of his eye, Hanamaki watched with careful concern. He kept his face neutral but Oikawa could see the way he picked at his cuticles. Hopefully, Matsukawa didn’t know about his nervous habit.

Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder. ‘Kyoutani. Can you pass the beers?’

‘What am I? Your fucking slave?’

‘Yeah. Grab them, will you?’

Oikawa’s head shot between the growing argument. ‘You two seem close.’ He said, deciding if he didn’t try to get information now then he’d lose his nerve.

‘I guess.’

‘So, he’s just allowed to speak to you like that?’ He cocked his head to the side. Kyoutani approached holding a slab of beers. He pushed Iwaizumi’s feet off the coffee table so he could put the slab down. Kyoutani huffed a laugh.

‘Someone’s gotta talk back to him. Who are you again?’

‘Tooru,’ he said, holding his hand out. Kyoutani just looked at his hand and raised his eyebrows like it wasn’t a normal way to greet people like that. Oikawa dropped his hand and wiped it on his pants with a cough.

‘Don’t mind him,’ Iwaizumi said, leaning his head back onto the backrest of the couch. He rocked his head to the side to look up at Oikawa beneath his long lashes. The muscles in his jaw shifted. ‘Kyoutani doesn’t mean to be an asshole. It just comes naturally to him.’

Matsukawa bent over and reached for two beers. He handed one to Hanamaki and the crack and pop of cans being opened filled the room. Iwaizumi followed in suit. He held a can towards Oikawa.

‘Beer?’

Hanamaki’s shoulders tensed, which Matsukawa noticed this time. He seriously needed to stop worrying about Oikawa.

‘No thanks.’ 

Hanamaki’s shoulders visibly relaxed. He got up and went to the bar. He came back and wordlessly handed him a glass of orange juice.

‘Huh? Oh, thanks.’ He put the rest of the orange juice bottle onto the coffee table and sat back down next to Matsukawa.

Iwaizumi opened his mouth like he wanted to ask a question but seemed to think better of it.

‘Guess who I saw on the dancefloor?’ Matsukawa said, sipping his beer. ‘Sugawara.’

‘Sugawara?’ Oikawa asked, leaning back on the couch to seem casual. His neck brushed against Iwaizumi’s arm. The name sounded familiar to him. He cast his mind back to the night at the charity gala and distantly remembered someone going by that name. Hanamaki shot him a look—'a glare that said, stop asking questions.’ He ignored him.

‘He’s the leader of the Karasuno gang.’

‘Oh. I think—was he at the charity gala?’

‘Yeah,’ Iwaizumi said. ‘Did you meet him or something?’

‘Nope. But he was talking to someone next to me and I accidentally listened to their entire conversation.’

‘Accidently?’

‘Well, ok, I definitely eavesdropped on purpose.’

‘You’re kinda a shitty person, huh?’

‘Yep!’

Iwaizumi shrugged and sipped his can. It didn’t do anything to hide the smile on his face. Matsukawa hummed. 

‘Who was he talking to?'

‘A pretty woman,’ he said. If he outright said Kiyoko and Tanaka then they would definitely get suspicious about why he stored the information away. ‘And a guy with a buzzcut. Wouldn’t wanna meet him in a dark alleyway.’

‘You’re very observative.’

‘It’s a gift.’

‘Anyway,’ Matsukawa said. ‘He’s on the dance floor right now. I’m thinking we invite him up here, sweet talk him a bit.’

‘You want Karasuno as an ally?’ Iwaizumi asked with a chuckle. He shook his head and gulped his beer. Oikawa watched the way his adam's apple bobbed up and down.

‘They're practically our allies anyway. I’ve been talking to him for a while. He hates Shiratorizawa just as much as we do.’

Oikawa flinched. What did Shiratorizawa have to do with anything? Old memories threatened to resurface. He shifted in his seat. Iwaizumi spared him a glance.

‘Yeah, but what is Karasuno going to do about our guys being killed by Reon’s goons?’

Oikawa’s head snapped to the side at the mention of Reon. Iwaizumi looked at him with squinted eyes. Right, he wasn’t supposed to know anything. His shock was easy enough to play off. ‘Killed? Is this about that body found in the alleyway outside this building?’

‘Yeah,’ Iwaizumi said, dragging a hand down his face with a sigh. 'This gang, Shiratorizawa, they killed our guys. The assholes are trying to frame us or something.’

If that was true, then he needed to notify the police department immediately. Matsukawa scoffed. ‘As if they can get rid of the mafia.’

‘Well, you seem to think they can get rid of us if you want Karasuno as our allies.’

Hanamaki’s head turned from side to side, trying to keep up. He shrugged and downed the rest of his beer, giving up on trying to follow along. Matsukawa pulled him into his side and absentmindedly rubbed his hand up and down Makki's shoulder. ‘All I’m saying is. It would be good to have a gang like Karasuno looking out for us. They aren’t the flightless crows they were three years ago. They’re strong now.’

Iwaizumi seemed to consider for a moment. Behind the bar, Kyoutani dropped a glass. The sound of glass shattering and Kyoutani cursing filled the air. Iwaizumi sighed and closed his eyes. It looked like he was counting to ten in his head. When he opened his eyes again, he said, ‘Fine. Matsukawa, Hanamaki, go find Sugawara and invite him up here.’

With that, the two got up to leave. Hanamaki sent Oikawa a concerned look over his shoulder at leaving him alone, but he reassured him with a wink.

‘So,’ Oikawa said, turning to lean on his hip and curling his feet up on the couch so he could give Iwaizumi his full attention. ‘Do you come here every night?’

‘Only on weekends. Gotta make sure Kyoutani hasn’t burned the place down.’

‘Seems like he’s too busy smashing glasses to commit arson.’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Kyoutani said from across the room. He stormed off through a door that led to somewhere else in the room, slamming the door behind him.

They laughed and suddenly fell silent. They were alone. He didn’t know when the others would be back with Sugawara. He had the chance to get close to Iwaizumi and he had no idea what to say. He bit his lip and looked away. 

‘Why are you so shy all of the sudden?’

‘Huh?’ he asked, feeling his cheeks heat up.

‘You seemed pretty confident on the dancefloor.’ 

‘I can be a bit impulsive sometimes.’

‘Liar,’ Iwaizumi said and Oikawa’s heart fluttered. How did he know he was lying? How could he possibly know that everything he did in his life was carefully calculated?

‘What are you? A human lie detector?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘I have three brothers.’

‘That’s a lie.’

‘My favourite colour is purple.’

‘Another lie. What is it actually?’

Oikawa bit back a smile. His heart was hammering at the thought of Iwaizumi catching him out in a lie; that his cover could potentially be blown. But he also felt something else…excitement? ‘Blue.’

‘Same.’

‘My favourite food is milk bread.’ 

‘That’s true.’

‘I have a younger sister.’

‘No.’

‘I have an older sister.’ He was glad Kuroo kept some truths on his file otherwise he would have been screwed. Iwaizumi smirked and knocked back the rest of his beer.

‘Yes.’

‘How can you possibly know if I’m lying?’ The last time he checked, he didn’t have a visible tell. 

‘Hm. I don’t think I'm going to tell you.’

‘Mean. Are you a mind reader Iwa?’

‘You’ve discovered my secret. Don’t tell anyone.’ Iwaizumi leaned in with a smile; it was a dangerous, wide smile. Oikawa’s breath hitched. He could feel his warm breath on his cheek. His smelled of beer and cigarette and…mint? 

‘What am I thinking right now?’ he breathed, letting his gaze flicker to Iwaizumi’s thin mouth. 

‘Something dirty.’

He let out a breathy laugh. Their mouths were inches apart and yet, he wasn’t even thinking about his job anymore. He wasn’t thinking about how he was a cop and Iwaizumi was a mafia boss. He wasn’t thinking about the consequences. Heat pooled deep within him. All he could think of was how long it had been since he’d gotten laid. He brought his hand up to rest on the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck and leaned in.

‘Hey, we’re back,’ Matukawa called. They pulled apart. 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki came in. Sugawara trailed behind with his hands deep in his pockets and lollipop in his mouth. He took it out with a wet pop. His shirt was unbuttoned dangerously low and a number of necklaces were layered onto his prominent collar bones. Oikawa immediately recognised his grey hair and chaotic grin.

‘What’s up, Iwaizumi?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, standing up. He shook his hand but Sugawara pulled him in for a sweaty hug. Iwaizumi wrinkled his nose. ‘Having a good night?’

‘You know I am.’ He pulled away and his gaze landed on Oikawa. His grin smile widened and he let out a low whistle. ‘And who do we have here?’

He stood to greet him and held out his hand. ‘Tooru. Nice to meet you.’

Sugawara took his hand and looked him up and down. He cocked his head to the side. ‘Do I know you. Tooru?’ He tested the name as if it would help him remember. 

‘Maybe. I was at Iwaizumi's charity gala.’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No. That’s not how I know you. I think it’s your voice. Yeah, that’s it. Your voice sounds familiar.’

He didn’t remember speaking all that much at the gala. ‘Oh, uh. I don’t know actually. Though, I have been told I have a lovely tenor.’ He tried for humour. He had no idea what he was talking about and didn’t think lying would help the situation.

Sugawara threw his head back. ‘Ah. This is going to kill me. Can you say, put your hands where I can see them?’

‘Put your hands where I can see them?’

‘Nope. You’re not the guy who tried to rob me yesterday. Hm. I wonder what it could be.’

Iwaizumi laughed, patting Sugawara on the shoulder. ‘How much have you had to drink, man?’

‘Not enough. Have I sold weed to you before, Tooru?’

‘I don’t think so?’

Something grabbed his shoulder and he flinched. He turned around, heart racing to see that Hanamaki had crept behind him. ‘Fuck, Makki. You scared me.’

‘Sorry,’ he said without any actual sympathy in his voice. Sugawara held a finger in the air; all he needed was a lightbulb above his head. This couldn’t be good.

‘Say that again.’

‘Which part?’

‘Fuck—actually. No. Say, I fucked up.’

‘I fucked up?’

Sugawara hummed and nodded. What the hell was going on? ‘I thought so. I knew I recognised your voice from somewhere.’

Iwaizumi cleared his throat and made a rolling gesture with his wrist as if to speed things up. ‘Where do you know him from then?’

‘Hm? Oh. Nowhere important.’ He laughed and sauntered over to throw himself down onto the couch. Iwaizumi sent a questioning look to Oikawa who just shrugged and went to sit back in the spot he was in earlier.

Sugawara looked at Oikawa differently now—with sympathy. But there was also a newfound tension in his shoulders. He kept glancing at him as if waiting for Oikawa to do something. Attack maybe?  
He picked up and sipped his orange juice as he mulled over what just happened. Iwaizumi found his way back to the couch.

He thought of the words Sugawara made him say. They seemed to spark recognition in him. Yet, he couldn’t remember ever saying those words at the charity gala. He couldn’t remember ever using that turn of phrase…accept maybe when…Oikawa choked out a gasp. He gripped the armrest with white knuckles as a wave of memories hit. This time, he couldn’t suppress them.

—

‘It’s not too late to switch sides, Oikawa.’

‘Stop acting crazy, Ushijima.’ He stared at the gun his old friend had pulled on him in the warehouse. He laughed. Ushijima wouldn't shoot him. 

‘If you’re not with us then you’re our enemy.’

‘Us? What makes you think Tobio is going to go along with your shitty idea? Tobio? Tobio, you’re not actually thinking of going along with this are you?’

Kageyama shuffled his feet and looked everywhere except in his eye. ‘I’m sorry Oikawa.’

'You're both being ridiculous. You don't actually think I'm going to let you leave this place, do you? I'll chase after you if I have to do this.' He didn't want to do this but he didn't have a choice. He pulled out his own gun. He wouldn't actually pull the trigger, but Ushijima didn't need to know that. Kageyama took a step forward. His face was cold but he could see the tears in his eyes. 

'Don't do this Oikawa. Please.' 

Ushijima shook his head. He lowered his gun. Some tension left Oikawa's shoulders. That is, until he realised he hadn't lowered his gun fully. It was pointed directly at his knee and Oikawa's own words echoed in his ears: 'I'll chase after you if I have to.'

'I apologise Oikawa,' Ushijima said in that serious voice that always pissed him off. This time, it didn't annoy him, it made his hands shake around his gun. His voice scared him. 'But you should have joined Shiratorizawa.' He fired and from the shock, from the excruciating pain that burst through his knee, his finger slipped on his own trigger.

—

‘Tooru? Tooru?’

Oikawa’s eyes regained focus. Hanamaki was crouched down in front of him, gripping his hands. Iwaizumi crouched next to him, sweeping the broken glass from his orange juice.

His whole body shook with adrenaline as if the events in his memories had happened yesterday. His knee ached and he hissed. He could feel tears trailing down his face. How was he supposed to explain this one? 

Matsukawa was floating nearby, unsure of what to do, but Sugawara just sat in the same spot he had before, watching him with interest.

His chest tightened. How could Sugawara possibly know his voice from that day?

‘I—I’m fine…’ he said quietly. He plastered a smile on his face and let his voice rise to a cheerful lilt. ‘Sorry to worry you all. It’s just my knee. It kinda hurts sometimes but it’s all fine now. Nothing to worry about.’

Hanamaki nodded like he wanted to believe him. His grip was still tight around his hands but his face was neutral. 

‘You were sobbing,’ Iwaizumi said. He really knew how to get to the point. Hanamaki flinched. Oikawa pulled his hands away so he could cross them over his chest.

‘Well, I’m not anymore.’

Hanamaki pulled out his phone and the clock read two am. ‘We should probably get going.’

Iwaizumi nodded. ‘I’ll see you all later. Look after yourself Tooru.’

‘Of course.’

It wasn’t until the late afternoon that his hands stopped shaking.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa calls Kuroo. Iwaizumi pays a visit.

‘Hey. It’s me.’

‘Ay. Long-time no hear from, Oikawa,’ Kuroo said from the other side of the phone. ‘Finally got something for me?’

Oikawa had spent all afternoon lounging on his couch. After getting back from the club in the early hours of the morning he was exhausted. He hadn’t changed out of his pyjamas, which was really just an oversized shirt and his boxers, and he still wore the eyeliner he had on at the club. He balanced the burner phone between his ear and shoulder and rubbed his eyes from beneath his glasses.

‘Of course. I didn’t just call you because I miss you.’

‘You miss me?’

‘Nope,’ Oikawa said with a grin even though Kuroo couldn’t see him. He pulled his coffee table closer to the couch so he could rest his notebook on it. The pages were full of messy scrawl from when he tried to get everything down as quickly as he could before he forgot. ‘So, the dead body, the one found in the alleyway at Aoba Johsai, they were one of Iwaizumi’s guys.’

‘Seriously? Are you sure your safe around this guy?’

‘Well, get this, Iwaizumi seems to think it was Shiratorizawa who killed him.’

‘Seriously?’ Kuroo repeated. He could practically hear the gears turning in his mind. ‘Do you believe him?’

‘I don’t have any reason not to.’

‘Hm.’ He could hear Kuroo slamming the keys of his laptop. ‘It seems risky. To attack a group as powerful as the mafia.’

Oikawa agreed. This whole thing was getting more complicated than he originally thought. He went into this job thinking he would just be finding evidence that Aoba Johsai was responsible for the murder, or even selling stolen art. But this, well this was bringing up old wounds. He had gone after Shiratorizawa three years ago and that didn’t end well. They were powerful back then. But now that they had Ushijima working for them—an ex-cop who would know exactly how to frame someone for murder—they were more dangerous than ever. Not to mention the fact that the police department had completely given up on trying to shut down Shirtorizawa. They were practically invincible.

‘I don’t know what to think at this point. But I’ll keep digging.’ He didn’t mention Sugawara but he did mention that Aoba Johsai was trying to have Karasuno as their ally.

‘That seems smart…Oh! I almost forgot. I’ve got some bad news,’ Kuroo said. His tone sounded too excited to be delivering bad news. It must be about something nerdy. ‘The results from the painting came back. It’s definitely the original; however, we tracked down the artist and he confirms that he donated the ugly dog painting willingly.’

‘Uh,’ Oikawa sighed, dragging his hands down his face. He kicked his legs onto the couch and lay down with a huff. ‘So basically, we have nothing against Aoba Johsai?’

‘Pretty much. I have been looking into that Kenma person though.’

‘Find anything?’

‘Yes actually. Kozume Kenma, twenty-four years old. He has been arrested for hacking into police records before.’

‘Is he one of Iwaizumi’s guys?’

‘That’s what I originally thought, but no. I did some digging and he’s suspected to be in the Nekoma gang. I arrested a couple of guys from Nekoma a couple of years ago. They aren’t all that dangerous but they are a damn inconvenience.’

‘Why would someone from Nekoma be looking me up?’

‘I have a theory,’ Kuroo said. This should be good. Kuroo always came up with the most absurd theories—they always managed to be somewhat correct though. Oikawa twirled his pen between his fingers and waited. ‘What were the names of everyone at the gala you talked to who weren’t from Aoba Johsai?’

‘I didn’t—oh wait, there was Kiyoko.’

‘And did you know she’s from the Karasuno gang? Very smart lady, she is.’

Oikawa sat up, suddenly interested. He jotted down a quick note that read “Kiyoko: Karasuno.” He thought back to that night. What had he said to make Kiyoko suspicious? 

‘So, you think she got this Kenma guy to look me up?’

‘Well,’ Kuroo said, clearly pleased that he asked. ‘Rumour has it that the Nekoma and Karasuno gangs are pretty close. I should also probably tell you that Kenma knows I’m looking into him.’

‘What?’ he shouted. Kuroo just laughed. It baffled Oikawa that Kuroo didn’t sound even the least bit concerned. He jumped up from the couch and paced the length of his couch. His mind was spinning with a million solutions to this newfound problem. It wasn’t ideal but Oikawa could work something out. He might need to pull a few all-nighters but he’d figure out a plan to get them out of this one.

‘I can feel you stressing through the phone. Don’t worry though. Me and Kenma are going on a date tonight so I’ll ask him about his connections to Karasuno then.’

‘Wait you…you what? Seduced him? Are you going undercover?’

‘Nah I just thought he was hot so I asked him out.’

‘You asked a criminal on a date? A criminal that knows you’re a cop?’

‘Pretty much. Don’t worry, your cover hasn’t been blown. Pretty sure he thinks I was looking in to him because of his little “tax evasion” thing. But I said to him “Taxes are confusing, my friend accidentally tax evaded for years. Come to dinner with me tonight and I’ll forget it ever happened.”’

‘And he said yes?’

‘Yeah, on the condition that I pay.’

‘This seems really corrupt.’

‘Probably, so don’t tell Daichi.’

Jesus Christ. How was Kuroo a genius and an idiot at the same time? He sighed. ‘Ok, fine. And about my cover being blown. I’m ninety-nine percent sure the leader of Karasuno knows I’m a cop.’

‘Shit hey? Do you think he’s going to tell anyone?’

‘No. I don’t think he will. I don’t know Kuroo, I think he knew what happened with me and Shiratorizawa.’

‘Hm... I would say that Ushijima told him if it wasn’t for the fact that Karasuno and Shiratorizawa are known enemies. I’ll look into it.’

There was a knock at his door. He paused his pacing to pad towards his door. Hanamaki probably left something at his apartment for the one-hundredth time. He told Kuroo he’d call him when he found out more information and hung up. He threw the phone onto the little table by his door and swung his door open. Iwaizumi stood in front of him. Oikawa froze, suddenly very aware of his choice of pyjamas.

‘You wear glasses,’ Iwaizumi stated without greeting him.

‘Hello to you too.’ His heart hammered in his chest. His palms were so sweaty that he lost grip on the door handle. ‘May I—may I ask how you know exactly which apartment I live in?’

‘Hanamaki.’

‘Right. Hanamaki.’ He silently cursed his friend for the lack of warning. He pulled at the hem of his shirt. ‘I don’t normally look like this.’

‘That’s a shame.’

His cheeks flushed. He coughed. ‘Did you come for a reason or are you just that obsessed with me?’

‘I came to see if you were ok.’

‘Oh.’

‘I also came to see if you wanted to have dinner with me tonight.’

‘Oh?’ He said with more enthusiasm. He grinned, suddenly intrigued. Was it really going to be that easy to seduce Iwaizumi? He couldn’t help but feel pride swirling in his chest. He fought the urge to say ‘So you find me attractive? What exactly do you find attractive about me?’ He settled on a, ‘Where will you be taking me?’

‘I’ll surprise you.’

‘Iwa?’ he said, his voice rising to a playful note. ‘Is that code for you have no idea where you’re taking me?’

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. ‘No, you asshole. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress casual.' 

‘Perfect.’

With that, Iwaizumi left. Oikawa’s chest fluttered. He hadn’t been on a date in a year. What should he wear? How should he act? Should he expect the night to end in his bed? He went to his bedroom and opened his closet door. He’d put on a show tonight and he’d get the information he needed. This would be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would everyone hate it if I did a Kuroo POV? Should I do that as a separate story?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa gets ready for his date. Kuroo & Kenma go on their date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: vague mention of drug addiction, hospitalization, and gun violence.

Three hours before Oikawa was going to be picked up by Iwaizumi, he decided to get ready. Hanamaki sat on his bed with his feet stretched before him and his back resting on the headboard. He watched Oikawa with a raised eyebrow.

‘Isn’t he picking you up at seven?’

‘Makki, it's like you’ve never heard of being prepared. Now. Iwa said to dress casually. What do you think he meant by that?’

‘He’s “Iwa” now? And jeans would be fine. He’s not exactly a formal guy.’

‘Really? He's not a formal guy?’ he said spinning around from his spot in front of his closet. He brought his pointer finger and thumb to his chin in thought. ‘How interesting. So then that whole "dressing up for a charity gala" thing must have been just to keep up appearances.’

‘Nope—no way. Stop using me to get information on Iwaizumi.’

Oikawa shrugged and started to pull shirts out of his closet. He threw them onto his bed and one at Hanamaki’s face. He peeled the shirt off his face and rolled his eyes. Oikawa grinned.

‘I need to look attractive in a way that doesn’t look like I’m trying too hard.’

‘Says the guy who’s getting ready three hours early. Are you actually interested in Iwaizumi or is this just part of the act?’

Oikawa considered the question. Iwaizumi was most definitely his type—strong, kinda broody, dark hair—but he was also a criminal. A criminal that he would do everything in his power to lock up. He’d go on this date, yes, but that was just to get information. He wasn’t interested in Iwaizumi romantically.

‘If you must know, I’m doing this to get information; However, if he wants to end the night in the bedroom I won’t be opposed. I have needs too you know.’

‘You’re too horny for your own good.’

‘Horny to get information.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

Oikawa rolled his eyes and pulled off his pyjama top. He tried on a striped shirt but immediately took it off upon seeing his reflection. ‘You and your linguistics. Do you think it’s too much to wear the checker shorts?’

‘If you don’t want to get laid then sure, wear the shorts.’

‘uh, fine. What should I wear then?’

Hanamaki sighed, dragging himself off the bed and over to the closet. He flicked through each piece of clothing muttering ‘nope, nope, nope,’ to himself. He finally decided on a deep blue knitted jumper and jeans that were ripped at the left knee.

‘Rings or no rings? Might be a bad idea considering…’ Oikawa shook his wrist up in a crude gesture. He settled on wearing only two rings. 

When he was done getting ready, they sat on his bed and watched TV. Hanamaki hummed. He turned to Oikawa and opening his mouth. He seemed to hesitate. ‘Iwaizumi. He doesn’t just go on dates with people.’

‘So he really likes me? Perfect.’

‘I know you don’t like to hear this, but Iwaizumi is my friend. Just…just don’t break his heart ok?’

Oikawa bit his lip and looked away. He’d had his fair share of heartbreak; it wasn’t a fun thing. But that wasn’t what this was, was it? Iwaizumi didn’t ask him out to be in some long-term relationship, did he? This was the leader of one of the most dangerous mafia gangs. There was no way he would shower Oikawa with flowers and kind words. He was doing this because he was attracted to Oikawa and wanted to fuck him. Right?

‘My sweet little Makki. You are looking way too deeply into this. Which, might I add, isn’t like you.’ Normally his friend was so laid back about things. What changed?

‘Whatever, Tooru.’

‘Ooh he used my first name. Things are getting serious.’ He deserved the shove he received but that didn’t stop him from whining and rubbing his arm. Hanamaki laughed.

‘You’re the idiot who has an undercover last name like Hanger. I have to call you Tooru so I don’t slip up.’

‘You think I created my own cover?’

‘I don’t know how undercover shit works.’

They both laughed and went back to watching shitty TV.

—

Kuroo’s POV

Kuroo adjusted his tie and grinned. A honk sounded from outside his apartment and he rushed out to finally meet Kozume Kenma. Holy shit, he thought up seeing a familiar mop of black hair with blonde tips, he’s even hotter in real life. 

Kenma watched him with cool indifference, leaning one elbow against the open window of his red sportscar. He nodded in acknowledgment without getting out to greet Kuroo.

He did a little jog around the side of the car and got into the open door of the passenger side. As soon as he got in, Kenma clicked a button and the door slide down and shut by itself. Kuroo let out a low whistle. Be cool—be cool—be cool, he chanted in his head. 

‘Nice car. Looks like something I’d pick in Mario Kart.’ He regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth but he didn’t let it show on his face. He smiled and pretended that was exactly what he was supposed to say. A small smile appeared on Kenma’s face and all regret disappeared.

‘Thanks,’ he said. He didn’t expect him to be so soft-spoken. Kuroo prayed he didn’t accidentally talk over the man—he had the tendency to do that around quiet people. ‘Um. Where am I driving to?’

‘I was thinking we go to Nando’s.’

Kenma’s eyes widened slightly. A smile twitched on his face and he quickly covered his mouth, turning his face away.

‘What?’ Kuroo said with a laugh. ‘Seriously. Tell me.’

‘You said dress fancy.’

‘Nando’s isn’t fancy?’ He silently cursed Bokuto for helping him choose a place.

‘I guess it could be,’ he said, forcing the smile off his face. It lasted about two seconds before he burst out laughing, covering his mouth again. Kuroo felt pride swirling his chest. He loved making people laugh—especially people who didn’t look like they laughed often. ‘Ok. Let’s go to Nando’s.’

He drove forward and Kuroo’s hand immediately shot up to the roof for stability. With Kenma’s driving, he was doubtful they would actually make it to Nando’s alive. Well, it was a fun life while it lasted. 

‘So, Kenma. Why’d you agree to this date? You did look at my file, right?’

‘I was curious,’ he said then mumbled something else.

‘What was that?’

‘I looked at your file.’

‘Nice. I looked at your file too.’

‘I know.’

‘Your hair had more blond in it. Hey, have you ever hacked into military files? I have a betting pool with some friends and I have a lot of money riding on the existence of aliens.’

Kenma glanced him in the review mirror. Right, Kuroo was a cop. He couldn’t just admit to hacking into military files. He probably thought this was all a setup and he had some secret wire on him recording their whole conversation. 

‘Ok. So I realise you can’t actually tell me if you have. I got it! Blink twice if aliens are real.’

That little smile appeared on his face again. ‘I haven’t hacked into military files. But…’

‘But?’

‘I think aliens are real.’

‘Awesome. I’ll add you to the betting pool.’

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride, which Kuroo would normally hate but Kenma looked comfortable in the quiet and not like he was struggling for something to say.

They entered Nando’s in their button-up shirts and ties and found a booth seat. Kuroo sat as close to him as he could without it seeming weird. The last person he dated told him he was too clingy and dorky so he made a conscious effort to be neither of those things. But his mind was empty of any non-dorky things to say.

‘Got any hobbies, Kenma?’

‘I like playing video games.’

‘Sweet. Do you have a switch? I’ve always wanted one of those but they are so expensive.’

‘I do. Maybe…maybe I could bring it next time?’

‘Hell yeah.’ He smiled at the “next time”. They ordered a plate of chicken and Peri-Peri chips and waited for it to arrive. 

‘What do you do?’ Kenma asked. ‘At the police department.’

‘I mainly deal with forgeries and hacking.’ He winked at Kenma who blushed. ‘I’m a technical analyst. I used to do more fieldwork but I always ended up getting punched by criminals. Apparently, I’m a provocation expert.’ He sat back in the seat, resting his hands behind his head. ‘Hey, how did you work out I was looking into you?’

‘IP address.’

‘Huh. I thought I hid it well. You must be good.’

Kenma shrugged. ‘I’m ok.’

They stopped talking about work and went back to games. Despite his quiet words, Kuroo could tell Kenma was really passionate about gaming. He, himself, didn’t often have time for games so he was generally interested to hear what Kenma had to say. 

Kenma didn’t speak with enthusiasm, nor did go off into rants like Kuroo did when he was talking about science or overly gesticulate like Bokuto when anyone mentioned volleyball. It was refreshing to be around someone who was actually humble—it made Kuroo desperate to get Kenma excited, he wanted to see him brag.

‘So these games. You beat everyone all the time?’

‘Not all the time.’

‘But most of the time, right?’

‘I guess.’

‘Could you beat me at Animal Crossings?’

‘You can’t really win at Animal Crossing.’ 

‘I bet you could find a way.’

Their food came but their steady flow of conversation continued. Whenever Kenma asked a question, Kuroo held his breath and halted his chewing so he didn’t miss any word he spoke.

The conversation slowly fizzled out and Kuroo took the opportunity.

‘Hey. As a question totally unrelated to anything about you… but do you know if Nekoma and Karasuno are close allies?’

Kenma tensed and he immediately regret bringing up work again. So much for Kenma not thinking he went out with him just to get information.

‘Sorry. It’s just, I’m starting to think...One of my friends he’s…

‘The one undercover?’

‘I promise it’s not the reason why asked you out. Wait what?’

‘Your friend. Oikawa Tooru. He’s undercover right now. You were wondering why Nekoma and Karasuno were looking into him.’

‘How’d you…Shit!’ Kuroo jumped out of his seat. He needs to contact Oikawa. He needed to tell him he had been compromised. 

‘No one else knows. Just me, Kiyoko, Sugawara and Ka—no one else.’

Kuroo sat back down with a huff. He ran his hands down his face and sighed. ‘Ah. This is all getting so confusing.’

‘I guess…I could explain some things.’

‘Please do.’

‘Um, so, Karasuno and Nekoma are close allies. Kiyoko approached me and asked me to look into a man Hanger Tooru—’

‘Why?’

‘He was asking too many questions and she didn’t recognise him. She likes to know everyone.’ Damn Oikawa and his questions. He was usually such a smooth talker but when he was tired or sick or drunk, he got reckless. Kuroo squeezed the sides of his face between his palms. He wished Oikawa had given more details about what happened that night; he needed to stop keeping things to himself. ‘One of Karasuno’s men recognised the photos on Hanger Tooru’s file. We didn’t get to tell Sugawara but we didn’t have to because he came back from a night out talking about how an undercover cop was sneaking around Aoba Johsai.’ This was the most Kenma had talked all night. Their chips were abandoned on the table, turning colder by the minute.

‘I still don’t understand how Sugawara knew who Oikawa was. They've never met outside of his cover.’

‘Oh, um.’

‘What is it?’

‘Sugawara said he recognised his voice. He was in your Captains office, I’m not sure his name—’

‘Daichi?’

‘Yes. He was in Daichi’s office three years ago when Oikawa called up about a mission gone wrong. It must have stuck with him.’

Kuroo flinched. He didn’t like to think about three years ago when they lost…he could only imagine what that phone conversation must have been like, especially with how distressed Oikawa had been when he was taken to the hospital. 

—  
Three years ago *Warnings apply here*

When the doctors had fixed up Oikawa’s knee, Kuroo and Bokuto wasted no time going to the hospital to visit him. They were both still in shock about what happened but they had to stay strong for Oikawa. Bokuto brought a sunflower and placed it on his bedside table. 

Kuroo’s stomach twisted at the sight of Oikawa. He was pale, too pale. His whole body twitched subconsciously and he was shivering. He kept bringing his finger up to his nose and rubbing it until it was red. He sniffed and sniffed and sniffed—

‘Where’s Tobio?’ he repeated again and again. Bokuto had to leave the room. 

‘Oikawa, Kageyama he’s—’

‘Where’s Tobio?’ He sounded angry. He threw his head back into his pillows and whined. ‘I’m so tired.’

‘Get some rest, buddy.’ He got up to leave so that he could sleep.

Oikawa’s eyes cleared for a second and he finally looked Kuroo in the eyes. ‘Kuroo?’ He immediately sat back down he leaned forward and grabbed Oikawa’s clammy hand.

‘Hey, hey, yeah it’s me. I'm here. How are you feeling?’

‘Why did they betray us? Why did Ushijima hurt me like that?’

‘I—I don’t know.’

Oikawa hummed and closed his eyes. ‘He said the police department was a bad place—corrupt. What do you think?’ This was the soberest he had been in all the time he’d been here. The nurses said he'd have moments of clarity as the drugs left his system.

‘I think Ushijima was looking for a way out.’

He hummed again. ‘Or maybe he was right.’

—

Now

‘Do you think the police department is corrupt?’ Kuroo asked. Kenma’s eyes widened. He looked away from Kuroo, clearly unsure if he could say what was on his mind. ‘Why was Sugawara in Daichi’s office?’

‘He—Karasuno were working with the police department.’

His heart hammered in his chest. What the fuck? How could a gang be working with the police department and how come no one said anything about it? Did Daichi plan all of this. No, for all he pretended, Daichi had no power over the police force—it had to be the commissioner behind this. 

‘Are they still working together?’

‘No. They dropped Karasuno when Ushijima joined Shiratorizawa.’

‘You know Ushijima?’

‘Everyone knows Ushijima.’

‘Right, sorry. Sometimes I forget.’

‘Were you…’ Kenma hummed, debating. He lifted his chin and said what was on his mind. ‘Were you close with Ushijima?’

‘I was. Until he shot Oikawa.’

Kenma raised his brows. ‘That’ll do it.’

Kuroo laughed and shook his head. He didn’t want to think about all of this right now. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up all of this.’

‘It’s fine. You’re worried about your friend.’

They spent the rest of the night talking about other things—learning about each other. Turns out they both played high school volleyball, which he found hard to imagine Kenma running around, but he liked the thought of him having hobbies.

They talked until the restaurant was closed and then they went for a walk across the dark streets. Their hands brushed against each other. Wordlessly, Kuroo outstretched his finger and they hooked pinkies. 

They found a late-night arcade and went in. Kenma naturally won at everything, much to Kuroo’s pleasure. Kuroo had enough tickets to get a slime hand and Kenma had enough tickets to get a stuffed animal—he chose a black cat. 

They found their way back to the car and soon they were pulling up in front of his apartment. He went over the rules of a first date in his head. He thought about inviting Kenma inside but he recognised the signs of someones social battery running out. 

He settled on a, ‘thanks for tonight.’

Kenma gave him a small smile and nodded.

Should he lean in for a kiss? Should he—should he—should he—  
Kenma beat him to it. He leaned forward and pressed a feather-soft kiss to his cheek. He almost didn’t feel it but still, butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Jeez, it was like he was a teenager again.

He grinned. He tried to play it cool with a wink. ‘I’ll catch you later Kenma.’


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iwaoi date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long
> 
> *THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT*. If you're not into that you can skip that part without missing anything. Also, if it's not obvious, Oikawa is a former drug addict in this story and cannot drink alcohol because of this.

Oikawa opened the door for Iwaizumi. He stood there in a denim jacket over a grey hoodie. He leaned back and forth on his heels.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’

They stood there for a few excruciating seconds. Oikawa cleared his throat and opened the door further to let Iwaizumi in. He was all too aware of the state his apartment was in. Being undercover meant he spent a lot of time at home—meaning he had a lot of time to make a mess. He coughed and rushed to pick up a pile of clothes he left on his couch. Iwaizumi just stood there smirking as Oikawa flung his laundry door open and threw the clothes onto the floor. He closed the door and turned to Iwaizumi, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a smile.

‘You look nice.’

Iwaizumi shrugged. ‘Thanks. You look nice too.’ 

‘So humble, Iwa,’ Oikawa said and, with that, the tension was broken. ‘Shall we get going?’

They left his apartment. Their hands brushed but he didn’t dare reach out—he’d save the boldness for later in the night. 

He took his seat in the passenger’s seat of Iwaizumi’s sleek black car and was reminded of his first time he’d been in there. He had been tense the whole ride from a combination of trying not to be killed by Iwaizumi and trying not to throw up in his car (which probably would have resulted in Iwaizumi killing him anyway). But now, he was oddly calm.

Iwaizumi leaned out to rest on the side of Oikawa's headrest as he reversed the car out of the park. His heart fluttered. The fabric of Iwaizumi’s denim jacket tensed around his muscled arm. Tonight, Oikawa decided, he would find out how strong Iwaizumi really was.

‘Before we go to dinner. There’s somewhere I want to take you first.’

He raised a brow. Where could he possibly be taking him? Maybe they were going to get drinks first. If that was the case then he should probably tell him he couldn’t drink. He caught Iwaizumi’s gaze in the mirror above the car and saw the smirk twitching at his mouth.

‘You’re acting kinda suspicious, Iwa. Where are you taking me?’

‘Like I said, it’s a surprise.’

Hm, Oikawa didn’t like surprises; they made him nervous. Especially when said surprises were coming from a mafia boss. It wouldn’t be so far-fetched to believe his surprise would end with him in a body bag. Yet, Oikawa played it cool. He made a soft humming sound and leaned back against the headrest so he could watch Iwaizumi beneath his lashes. 

‘I don’t like surprises.’

‘No? Hanamaki said I should expect as much. But you’ll like this surprise.’ He said it with such finality that he almost believed him. Did Iwaizumi always talk with this much authority? He guessed it was necessary for Iwaizumi to not show any weakness or hesitation in the way he spoke, being a leader and all. Oikawa made note of this. He didn’t, however, make note of the way his graveling voice sent butterflies through his stomach. 

‘You got Hanamaki to help you plan this? How cute.’

‘’m not cute.’

‘Is that a pout? Aw, Iwa’s pouting.’ He really needed to stop testing Iwaizumi’s patience. It didn’t help that the man wasn’t all that threatening when he was around him. Cool and confident, yes, but not really dangerous. Maybe Iwaizumi saved that part of himself for when he was beating his enemies to death or smuggling drugs or whatever the hell it was Aoba Johsai did without leaving a trace of evidence behind.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. He drove with only one hand on the wheel and the cop in Oikawa screamed at him to tell him off. With his other hand, he reached blindly into the storage box between their seats and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Oikawa.

‘You can choose the music.’

That’s when he realised there was an aux cord plugged into the phone.

‘What’s your password?’

‘3456.’

Oikawa raised a brow and laughed. He didn’t know what was more shocking—the ridiculousness of the password or the fact that he willingly told Oikawa what it was.

‘Woah, that password is so complex. How do manage to remember it?’ 

‘Just pick a song.’ He opened his Spotify and took a peek at Iwaizumi’s recently played songs. He clicked on the artists he liked and went to see his friends list but paused when Iwaizumi said, ‘I can feel you snooping from here.’

‘Oops,’ he said, without apology. ‘Just trying to get to know you and all your little interests. Who would have thought you were a Taylor Swift fan?’

‘She writes good songs.’

‘True,’ he said and clicked on her Reputation album. The music blasted through the high-quality speakers.

They drove deeper into the city. Iwaizumi sat silent for most of the time. There was a little furrow between his brows as he concentrated on the road. Oikawa wanted to reach out and smooth the crease.

He wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would he be rough? Gentle? Slobbery? At the thought, he realised he forgot to brush his teeth. Shit. He leaned his elbow against the window and tried to subtly smell his breath by blowing into his palm. Shit.

‘Got any gum?’ He asked as casually as possible.

‘Should be in the glove box.’ He nodded and popped it open just as Iwaizumi said, ‘wait—’

There was a moment of silence as Oikawa registered the gun. Taylor Swift played distantly in the background. The pack of gum lay on top of the gun. He gently picked up the packet of gum and let out a nervous laugh. 

‘Shit, Iwa. Does this surprise involve you taking me to an abandoned dock and shooting me through the forehead?’ He tried to keep his tone light but there was a nervous wobble in it. His heart was hammering in his chest. Calm down, he thought, you are around guns all the time. 

‘Sorry,’ Iwaizumi mumbled. ‘I forgot it was in there.’

‘It's fine.’

‘It's really not. It shouldn’t be in there. I’m sorry if I scared you.’ He tried to catch Oikawa’s gaze in the mirror.

‘It's just a gun, Iwa,’ Oikawa said, despite the words making his throat close in on itself as memories threatened to surface.

‘No. Guns are dangerous.’ Then why do you have one? he wanted to say; instead, he shrugged. He leaned forward and closed the glove compartment. His hands shook but Iwaizumi didn’t say anything.

‘Well, as long you don’t shoot me in the face. It’s my best feature after all.’

‘Doesn’t 'feature' mean one part of your face? Like your nose or eyes or something? How can your best feature be your entire face?’

‘Iwa. If you think too hard when you don’t have a brain, you’re going to hurt your head.’

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. They fell into another silence. 

Iwaizumi slowed the car down in front of a large building with a dome on top. Oikawa sat up pressing his hands to the windows like a child on their way to Disney Land. His breath fogged up the glass as his heart sped up. He shot his head to the side to look at Iwaizumi who sat with a smug smile.

‘Are you—are you taking me to…?’ 

‘Yep.’

Oikawa grinned and he bounced in his seat. ‘How did you know I love the planetarium? Did Hanamkai tell you? Makki must have told you.’

‘Maybe.’

He made a mental note to thank Hanamaki. He was always too busy to visit the planetarium but it was his favourite place in the world. He loved the reclining seats and the spinning stars and the feeling like he was just a spec compared to the whole universe.

They found their way into the building and sat in the seats that Oikawa deemed to be the best spot. Being so close to Iwaizumi in the dark was just as exciting as being surrounded by stars. Something knocked against his knee and he looked down to see Iwaizumi’s knee resting against his own. He didn’t move away.

—

After the Planetarium, Iwaizumi took him to a restaurant nearby. Oikawa couldn’t sit still; he was too hyped up on adrenaline. Their table was at the back of the restaurant, away from everybody else. A candle burned in the middle of the little table, bathing the room in soft, golden light. The waitstaff kept running back and forth offering complimentary wine and specials. They were acting as if Iwaizumi was famous—in a way, he was.

Oikawa pressed his forearms against the table and leaned forward. Iwaizumi had been sitting back on his chair, sipping his wine but he leaned forward to meet Oikawa. To an outsider, they probably looked like they were conspiring.

‘Do you believe in aliens?’

‘Obviously,’ Iwaizumi, a smile twitching on his lips. ‘There’s no way we are the only ones out there.’

‘Exactly. One of my friends keeps saying it's impossible. He’s a dumbass.’ He didn’t mention the said friend’s name. If Iwaizumi had as many dealings with the police as his file said, then he would most definitely recognise the name Daichi.

'Clearly.' Iwaizumi smiled and took a long sip of his wine. He eyed Oikawa’s untouched glass.

‘You don’t drink?’

‘Nope.’

‘Hm. Sorry. I just thought I saw you drinking at the charity gala.’

Oikawa cringed. ‘Not one of my finest moments.’

Iwaizumi hummed. ‘Alcoholic?’

His eyes widened. No one had ever been so blunt with him. Usually, people would dance around the topic, too scared to hurt his feelings. It was oddly refreshing.

‘Nope. I used to snort a lot of coke though.’ He laughed at the way Iwaizumi’s eyebrows skyrocketed to his forehead. ‘Ha. You should see your face right now.’

‘Sorry...for bringing it up, I mean.’

‘Huh? Don’t go soft on me now, Iwa. I was starting to like the whole intense bluntness thing you had going on here.’ The waiter arrived and handed them their pasta. They both muttered a quiet ‘thanks.’ Oikawa looked up to watch Iwaizumi who stared at his pasta intently. ‘Really. I don’t mind talking about it.’

Iwaizumi nodded and took an aggressive bite of his pasta. Sauce dripped down his chin and Oikawa laughed. ‘What? What is it.’

He picked up a napkin and leaned across the table, still laughing. He wiped the sauce off his chin. He paused, their faces inches apart. His laugh turned into a nervous chuckle and he sat back into his chair. He threw the napkin onto the table. ‘I feel like a mother. Did you want me to cut up your pasta for you as well?’

‘Idiot,’ Iwaizumi grumbled, which only made Oikawa’s grin widen.

—

After their food, they went for a walk and then back to the car. Iwaizumi let him choose the music again. Oikawa watched as the street lights illuminated Iwaizumi’s dark skin. He watched him watch the road. His gaze was intense, unforgiving. Is that how he looked at Oikawa?

When they arrived back at his apartment, he asked Iwaizumi if he wanted to come in. His eyes widened for a second before softening, ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘Ok.’

He clicked the elevator button with sweaty palms. This was it, he thought. This was the moment he officially seduced Iwaizumi and secured himself a spot in the mafia. His stomach flipped at the thought. 

They got to his door and he spared a glance at Hanamaki’s door. He wondered if he was home. He would have to remember to lock his door just in case his friend tried to pay him a late-night visit. He felt Iwaizumi’s burning gaze on him as he worked his door open. His mind was buzzing with too many thoughts. Did he make his bed? Did he have condoms? Would his mouth taste like pasta?

‘So,’ Oikawa whispered—why was he whispering? He shut the door behind them. The lights were still off and the moonlight outside cast shadows across Iwaizumi’s face.

‘So,’ he said back, amusement in his voice. Oikawa stumbled to turn on the light then squinted at the brightness. Their faces were inches apart. His gaze flickered down to Iwaizumi’s sharp mouth.

‘So,’ he repeated. Fuck it. He leaned forward slowly, giving time for Iwaizumi to pull away. He didn’t pull away. Their lips ghosted over each other, hesitant and soft. Oikawa pushed his mouth harder into Iwaizumi’s so their bodies were flushed against each other. He wrapped his arm around the back of Iwaizumi’s neck and Iwaizumi’s hand found their way to his hips. Wet kissing sounds filled the room. His glasses knocked into Iwaizumi’s forehead and he muttered an apology against his lips. The whole thing was entirely messy, 

He moved to take his glasses off but a hand caught his wrist, ‘Leave them on,’ Iwaizumi said, voice rough. Oikawa nipped at the bottom of Iwaizumi’s lip and grabbed him by the collar. He dragged him to his room and pushed him back onto his bed. They went back to their desperate kissing.

‘Hold tight,’ Oikawa whispered when he pulled away and Iwaizumi tried to close the gap again. He left him sitting at the foot of his bed. Oikawa grabbed his pillow and took it over to Iwaizumi. He bit his lip and sunk down onto his knees, slipping his pillow beneath his bad knee.

‘Tooru,’ Iwaizumi said. The way he said his name was enough to make him hard. ‘Are you sure?’

‘A hundred percent. Are you sure?’ His hands ghosted over Iwaizumi’s zipper.

‘Fuck, yes,’ he breathed out and Oikawa took that as his cue. He tugged his zipper down. Iwaizumi lifted his hips so Oikawa could tug his pants and underwear down to his ankles. He let out a shaky breath as Iwaizumi’s cock sprung free. He was big. His own cock twitched at the sight and he bit his lip again. 

‘Admiring the view?’

‘Yep,’ he said, voice breathier than he intended. He stared at Iwaizumi’s cock and wondered if he would be able to take it all into his mouth. He tried the tip first, pressing it against his lips in a kiss. Iwaizumi’s breath hitched. He grinned up at him. When their eyes met, he took him further into his mouth. Iwaizumi held his gazing, causing Oikawa’s cheeks to flush.

‘Touch yourself,’ Iwaizumi said, his voice was clipped and strained and full of command. Oikawa moaned against his cock then grinned. He pulled the zip of his own pants down and pulled out his throbbing cock. He moaned again and Iwaizumi threw his head back at the vibration.

He bobbed his head up and down, sucking. The wet, slurping sound filled the room. Oikawa used one hand to pump the base of Iwaizumi’s cock and the other to pump his own.

‘Fuck,’ Iwaizumi moaned throwing his head back. ‘Shit Tooru, you feel so good.’

Oikawa shuddered at the praise.

—

Iwaizumi was the first to come with a shout. He took a few seconds to collect himself as Oikawa swallowed. A bit dribbled down his chin but he didn’t have time to wipe it as Iwaizumi immediately helped him onto the bed began to suck him off in return.

After Oikawa came, they both lay side by side, breathing heavily and still clothed. He hummed, closing his eyes, suddenly exhausted. ‘I could fall asleep like this.’

‘With your cock sticking out of your pants?’ Iwaizumi deadpanned and they both fell into a fit of chuckles.

‘Wanna stay the night?’

‘Sure.’

They both took off their clothes and lay under the cool sheets. They didn’t cuddle but the next morning, Oikawa found himself wrapped in Iwaizumi’s arms. He didn’t think about who Iwaizumi was until the morning. He had forgotten that he was in the mafia—or maybe he just pushed the thought down as far as he could.

It was hard to believe that Iwaizumi was a criminal when he lay, softly snoring with drool trailing down his cheek as he gripped Oikawa for dear life. He smiled at the sight before catching himself. He couldn’t develop feelings—not now. He had to keep things professional—well, it was too late for that. He had to keep his emotions out of this and stick to doing whatever it took to get the information he needed. Still, he couldn’t help that Iwaizumi’s chest was so warm and his arms so safe. He drifted to sleep again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after awkwardness

Oikawa woke to a knocking on his door and something shaking his shoulders. He groaned and pried his eyes open. Iwaizumi sat with the blankets pooled in his lap. The morning light shone around him, making his skin look golden.

‘Someone’s knocking on your door.’

‘Huh?’ he said, sleep still fogging his brain. He propped himself on his elbows. 

‘Not a morning person?’ Iwaizumi asked with a chuckle. He stood up and Oikawa’s eyes traveled down his naked body. Despite them seeing each other naked the night before, his cheeks still flushed. Iwaizumi looked over his shoulder and down at Oikawa staring. The knocking continued, getting louder and more frustrated. ‘Want me to answer it?’

‘Mm. Yes please,’ he said throwing himself back onto the bed with a huff. He brought his arm over his eyes to block the light. ‘’s probably jus’ Makki.’

Oikawa heard Iwaizumi’s feet pad out of the room and the door closing. The sound of talking was muffled. The door swung open again a few seconds later.

‘Not Makki.’

He shot up to see Iwaizumi leaning against the doorframe in nothing but Oikawa’s blue silk robe. The material was taught around his muscled chest. It was dangerously short. He looked ridiculous.

‘Who is it?’

‘Your lovely sister,’ a voice sung out. Said sister’s head poked around the doorway. She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head so he could see the mischievous glint in her eyes. ‘And Takeru of course.’ As if on cue, Takeru came running in and jumped up onto his bed.

‘Why are you still in bed?’

‘Cause I just woke up.’

‘Why did you just wake up?’

He looked over Takeru’s shoulder to glare at his sister. She crossed her arms and grinned, tapping her heavy boot against his carpeted floor. 

‘Answer the question Tooru.’

Iwaizumi watched with raised eyebrows—clearly enjoying Oikawa’s distress. He didn’t even look embarrassed by the fact that he was only wearing a robe. He turned back to Takeru.

‘I had a late night. Stop asking questions.’

Takeru ignored him, turning to Iwaizumi. Oikawa fought the urge to tell his nephew to get away from the dangerous criminal. He crawled to the end of the bed and sat on his knees.

‘Who are you?’

Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck but he immediately pulled his hand down when the robe threatened to open. He pulled the material tight around his body.

‘I’m Iwaizumi. Nice to meet you—’

‘Are you Uncle Tooru’s boyfriend?’ His sister coughed out a laugh but didn’t even try and stop Takeru. She thrived on drama. He felt his whole face burn while only a light pink dusted across Iwaizumi’s high cheekbones.

‘Um—’

‘My uncle once had a boyfriend and he looked all scary like you. Mum says he has a type.’

Iwaizumi raised a brow and pushed himself off from his spot leaning against the door frame. ‘Does he now?’ He completely ignored the part where Takeru called him scary-looking.

‘No, he does not,’ Oikawa said. He wrapped his blankets around himself and dived across the bed to smother Takeru with his pillow. His sister rolled her eyes and sauntered over to the bed. She snatched the pillow away and smacked Oikawa over the head with it. He rubbed at the spot and muttered an ‘ow.’ 

‘Stop trying to kill my son. Even if he’s being a nosy little snot.’ She directed the last part at Takeru who giggled, unphased by Oikawa’s previous attempt at suffocating him. ‘So,’ she said, pulling the hem of her skirt down. ‘brunch.’

‘Huh?’

‘I knew I should have tattooed a reminder across your forehead. We are going out to brunch today. It was your idea, remember? You were really craving expensive eggs or some shit.’

Iwaizumi’s head cut to Takeru, probably trying to see if his sister’s swearing would affect him. It didn’t. He continued to jump up and down on the bed. He had forgotten all about brunch. He had been so busy with work and trying to seduce Iwaizumi. 

Takeru stopped bouncing and Oikawa took the opportunity to kick the back of his knee, causing him to fall onto the bed. He laughed at Takeru’s pout. His sister rolled her eyes again. She would have told him off if Takeru actually fell off the bed but her son was mostly unharmed.

‘Brunch it is. You’re paying right?’

‘Of course.’ She grinned; Oikawa didn’t like the look on her face. She turned her attention to Iwaizumi. ‘It’s Iwaizumi, right? You hungry for some expensive eggs?’

‘Oh, uh…’ He looked at Oikawa for help. He shook his head in a silent command. No, say no.

Before he could say anything, she threw her arm around his shoulder. ‘Too bad. You’re coming. I’ll give you both five minutes to get changed.’ With that, she took Takeru by the arm and led him to the living room. He heard his television turn on and the muffled sound of SpongeBob filtering through his apartment.

Iwaizumi rested his hands on his hips and began the search for his clothes. ‘Your sister seems nice.’

He hummed. ‘That’s one way to put it. Do you have any nosy siblings?’

‘Five. All younger.’

‘Cute. Iwa has older brother status.’ He hadn’t heard of Iwaizumi’s siblings before. He wondered if they were involved in his little organisation. ‘Anyway, you get changed while I go set some boundaries with my dear sister.’

He tried to walk out of his room as casually as possible, but when the door was shut behind him, he practically sprinted into his loungeroom. His sister was in the kitchen stealing his bread as she overlooked Takeru—who sat immersed in front of the TV.

‘That what you’re wearing to brunch?’ She waved a butter knife at the sheets he still had tightly wrapped around him.

‘Yep, I’m starting a trend.’ He took a step closer to his sister and spared a glance at Takeru to make sure all his attention was on Spongebob catching jellyfish. He brought his voice down into a hiss. ‘I thought I told you I was undercover.’

‘Yeah. You did. But you also said we could still meet up. I’m just doing what you said, asshole.’

He dragged his hands down his face and sighed. He snatched a piece of toast up before his sister could grab it.

‘Hey, get your own toast.’ 

‘It's technically is my toast.’

She buttered one of the pieces and sucked the dripping butter from her finger. Oikawa cringed. ‘So, you gonna tell me who that guy is?’

‘My target.’

His sister paused. ‘Oh.’

‘Just tell me you didn’t mention the name Oikawa.’

‘I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself. So, no. Is he dangerous?’ She looked over at Takeru who remained blissfully unaware. Oikawa shook his head. The question was weighted. He knew the Aoba Josai Mafia was dangerous, but he’d yet to see Iwaizumi do anything criminal.

‘Not to us, no.’

‘So he’s dangerous to someone?’

‘Yes.’

His sister froze before smacking him behind his head. ‘Idiot,’ she hissed. ‘Then why’d you sleep with him?’

He rubbed the back of his head and avoided her eyes as he whispered, ‘to get information.’

‘I thought we were past this, Tooru.’ Her voice shook and he looked up to see her rub her temples, eyes glassy. The little dent between her eyebrows grew deeper. ‘You said you were going to stop doing whatever it took to get information. Work isn’t everything.’

He fought the urge to say it is. Because work was everything to Oikawa. Policework was the only thing he was good at. Without it, he was nothing. He could practically feel his therapist tutting and shaking her head at his persistent thoughts.

‘It's not like that. There are no drugs involved. Promise. And…well…’

‘Spit it out.’

‘I kinda…well, I kinda wanted to sleep with him.’ He cringed. It sounded bad even to his ears, that he would want to sleep with a criminal. But he had needs too ok?

She bent over to open a cupboard and laughed into it. She emerged carrying a plate and wearing a shit-eating grin. She threw the toast on the plate. ‘You gonna arrest your boyfriend? That’s cold, Tooru.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ he said at the exact moment Iwaizumi stepped into the kitchen wearing the clothes he had on the night before.

‘You wearing that to brunch?’ Iwaizumi asked, nodding his head towards the sheets wrapped around Oikawa’s body. His sister laughed, throwing her whole head back and shouting, ‘that’s what I said!’ She waltzed over to hand the plate of toast to Takeru who was too fussy to eat at cafes. She turned her attention back to Iwaizumi. ‘I’m Sara by the way. I didn’t get to say earlier.’ She strode forward and shook Iwaizumi’s hand with surprising strength considering how large the man’s biceps were.

They smiled at each other, matching glints in their eyes, and Oikawa sighed. This brunch was going to be painful.

**Author's Note:**

> I plan to update as often as I can.


End file.
